THK   B^INI)   BARD    OF    MICHIGAN 


THE 


FATAL  SECKET 


IDA  GLENWOOD, 

'THZ   BLIND   BABD   OF  XICHIOAX." 


,  "Thoughtlefls  of  beauty, 
•he  was  Beauty's  Belt" 


PHILADELPHIA: 

JOHN  E.  POTTER   &  COMPANY, 
30,  81. 39,  AMD  85  NORTH  TENTH  ST. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Oonjrew,  In  the  year  187S,  bv 

CYNTHIA  M.  K  GORTON, 

In  the  Office  of  tbt  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


to 
REV.  CHAUNCEY  HALL  A»D  WIFE, 

WWO  WERS  FOB  TWENTY  YEARS  TEACHERS  IN  THE  MISSION  SCHOOL  ON 

ISLAND  OP  MACKINAW,  AND  FROM  WHOM,  BY  THK  RELA- 

TION OF  DETAILS  CONNECTED  WITH  THAT  EVENT- 

IUL  PERIOD   OF  THEIR   HISTORY,  THS 

INCIDENTS  OF  THIS  STORY 

WERE  GATHERED, 


In  tf)r  *3oofc  most  Uobtngli)  Srttcatrt 
BY   THE  AUTHOB. 


PREFACE. 


FOR  nearly  twenty  years  the  writer  of  the  following  pages 
has  been  shut  out  from  all  the  bright  beauties  with  which 
Nature  gladdens  the  soul  and  invigorates  the  mind,  ex- 
cluded from  all  that  pleases  the  vision,  and  left  to  gather, 
as  well  as  she  might  in  the  darkness,  the  glittering  baubles 
of  pleasure  that  were  scattered  about  her. 

Alone  in  my  thickly-curtained  chamber,  a  faint  light 
came  gleaming,  the  heavy  pall  which  the  external  gloom 
had  shadowed  upon  my  heart  was  drawn  aside,  and  a  sweet 
voice  was  heard  in  the  midnight  darkness :  "  I  will  bring 
thee  joys  such  as  thy  noonday  knew  not,  and  smiles  of 
peaceful  satisfaction  shall  reward  thee  for  the  labor  of  love." 
Then  memory,  unguided,  wandered  back,  o'er  the  grass- 
grown  path  that  lay  half  concealed  upon  the  mountain  side, 
and  on  the  sandy  plains,  or  wound  along  upon  the  bar.k 
of  some  yawning  gulf,  or  descended  into  the  cool  and  silent 
valley,  where  the  alluring  waters  bubbled  and  the  fragile 
forget-me-not  looked  up  and  smiled,  as  the  weary  footsteps 
hurried  by. 

And  all  along  through  the  slumbering  years  of  the  past 

the  pitying  angel  faltered  not,  but  gathered  with  ceaseless 
1*  t 


6  PREFACE. 

hand  from  the  broken  hedges,  from  the  brier  and  the  wild 
wood,  and  often  from  the  grassy  lea  or  beside  the  gurgling 
fountains,  some  tiny  flower  or  bright  green  leaf  upon  which 
the  foot  of  Time  had  not  trampled,  and  laid  them  as  pre- 
cious trophies  at  miy  feet.  Fancy  came,  and  with  cheerful 
fingers  twined  them  into  a  wreath  of  poesy,  whose  fragrance 
filled  the  desolate  chambers  of  my  heart  and  let  in  th« 
glorious  sunshine  that  flooded  the  world  outside. 

One  cold,  cheerless  wintry  day  Memory  returned  and 
knocked  timidly  at  the  closed  door  of  my  darkened 
chamber. 

"  The  flowers  have  withered  and  the  bright  green  leaves 
faded,  from  their  exposure  to  the  light  of  the  present,"  she 
whispered,  "  and  my  feet  have  grown  weary  from  a  fruitless 
search  for  others,  fresh  and  fair,  with  which  to  fill  their 
places." 

"  Will  not  the  praises  of  friends,  the  pitying  smile  of  the 
generous  connoisseur,  restore  them  ?"  I  eagerly  asked. 

But  the  sickening  odors  from  the  withering  flowers  died 
away,  and  the  sunshine  faded  from  the  inner  chamber  where 
it  had  lingered,  and  again  through  the  unbroken  darkness 
came  the  sound  of  the  sweet  sad  voice,  as  it  whispered, 
"No." 

"  Go,  then,"  I  hurriedly  bade ;  "  step  aside  from  the  well- 
beaten  path  in  which  my  footsteps  have  been  hitherto  traced 
Gather  up  the  scattered  threads  of  romance  which  lie  plenti- 
fully strewn  throughout  the  shady  groves,  where  the  merry 
Dirds  once  sang,  and  by  the  dark  turbid  river  where  the 
restless  spirits  of  imagery  delight  to  ramble  when  the  floods 
are  high  and  the  angry  waves  chant  a  dismal  dirge  over 
departed  day.  Go!  I  would  weaye  these  together  in  one 


PREFACE.  • 

broad,  fascinating  web  of  lights  and  shadows,  blend  the 
sombre  hues  of  woe  with  the  purple  and  gold  of  every 
heart's  history,  and  with  this  would  I  festoon  my  lonely 
prison-house,  and  its  fadeless  colors  shall  cheer  its  desola- 
tion until  the  echoes  of  this  beating  heart  shall  slumber 
beneath  it,  and  a  hand  shall  write  upon  the  portal,  '  Gone, 
gone  1 ' " 

My  mandate  was  obeyed;  and  to  you,  gentle  reader,  I 
offer  the  results  of  my  labors. 

It  may  be,  that  my  work  will  not  please  you,  and  the 
critic's  eye  may  perceive  that  the  characters  here  presented 
have  been  sent  forth  in  a  most  unbecoming  deshabille — per- 
haps even  partially  destitute  of  those  decorations  and  em- 
bellishments which  are  usually  so  desirable  to  true  literary 
merit.  If  such  an  impression  rest  upon  the  mind  of  any 
one,  let  me  beg  him  to  enter  his  garden  at  midnight,  when 
the  stars  are  asleep  and  the  pale  moon  is  closely  curtained 
in  her  ethereal  bed,  and  as  he  wanders  with  slow,  unsteady 
step  over  its  pebbly  walks,  let  him  pluck  from  the  right  and 
the  left  the  many-colored  flowers  of  rich  and  of  sombre  hue 
that  are  shedding  around  his  path  their  soothing  fragrance ; 
with  all  the  taste  and  skill  which  he  possesses,  let  him  twine 
them  together  in  a  wreath  for  his  lady's  brow.  When  the 
morn  approaches,  see  if  a  smile  is  not  upon  her  lip,  and 
merriment  dancing  in  her  eye,  as  she  laughingly  inquires, 
"  Where  was  your  artistic  skill  when  you  joined  the  yellow 
and  the  carmine,  the  purple  and  the  amaranth,  in  fond 
embrace?"  Is  the  darkness  your  plea?  '  It  is  mine  also. 
She  smiles,  and  kisses  the  bright  japonica  that  was  plucked 
for  her,  removes  the  half-blown  rose  to  a  place  upon  her 
Dosorn,  while  the  tender  bud  nestles  in  her  bright  golden 


8  .   PREFACE. 

hair,  and  in  a  crystal  vase  places  the  token  of  your  love, 
that  it  may  not  wither  unappreciated.  If  a  similar  kindly 
fate  be  in  store  for  these  pages — if  from  them  a  few  cherished 
thoughts  may  be  gathered  to  cheer  a  lonely  hour  or  to  drive 
from  a  single  brow  the  frown  of  discontent,  leading  one  from 
beneath  the  cloud  to  a  brighter  and  more  peaceful  spot, 
where  the  rays  of  a  gentle,  unfailing  trust  hi  Him  who  is  % 
Father  to  the  fatherless,  and  a  friend  that  never  forsakes— 
then  will  the  shadows  that  have  fallen  thickly  about  the 
Author,  and  led  her  hitherward  for  an  anticipated  light  with 
which  to  gild  the  passing  hours,  not  have  fallen  in  vain. 

IDA  GLENWOOD. 


CONTENTS. 


MM 

I.  THE  MORNING  WALK 11 

II.  THE  ISLAND  BEAUTY 15 

III.  HERBERT'S  SAD  STORY 20 

IV.  A  SUDDEN  SURPRISE 26 

V.  THE  PAST  AND  THE  PRESENT 30 

VI.  THE  TBAGIC  SCENE > 35 

VII.  THE  DISCLOSURE 40 

VIII.  CONDEMNED  TO  DIE. 45 

IX.  NOT  YET 48 

X.  OWABTA'S  Vow 56 

XL  LEFT  TO  HIS  FATE 63 

XII.  RECONCILED  TO  THE  CHANGE 69 

XIII.  RECEPTION  AT  PLEASANT  COTTAGE. 75 

XIV.  THE  ANTICIPATED  SEPARATION 84 

XV.  THE  KEEPSAKE. 89 

XVI.  WELCOME  TIDINGS 97 

XVII.  THE  FATAL  SECRET 98 

XVIII.  CLOUDS  AND  SUNSHINE.... Ill 

XIX.  ONE  MORE  UNFORTUNATE 119 

XX.  FOR  EVER  GONE 129 

XXL  THE  BIRDS  FLOWN 138 

XXII.  AN  UNEXPECTED  MEETING 147 


10  CONTENTS. 

CHA?. 


f.  LURA'S  NEW  HOME  .............................................  160 

XXIV.  THE  PURPOSE  FULFILLED  ..........................  ,  .........  173 

XXV.  THE  DIAMOND  BROOCH  ............................  .  ...........  186 

XXVI.  THE  DREAM  FULFILLED  .......................................  198 

XXVIL  "THORNY  WAY"  .................................................  208 

XXVIII.  THE  MASSIVE  FOB-CHAIN  ......................  .  .............  220 

XXIX.  A  BURDEN  REMOVED  ..................................  ........  229 

XXX.  THE  PARDONED  HERBERT  ....................................  240 

XXXI.  ALONE  No  LONGER  .............................................  252 

XXXII.  THE  CONFESSION  ..................................................  257 

XXXIII.  AT  SEA  AND  IN  PORT  ..........................................  270 

XXXIV.  THE  TIE  SUNDERED  .............................................  277 

XXXV.  UNREST  ...............................................................  281 

XXXVI.  THE  CRUSHED  FORGET-ME-NOT  ..............................  291 

XXXVII.  THE  OLD  LOVE  AND  THE  NEW.  ............................  304 

XXXVIII.  THE  REVELATION  ................................................  316 

XXXIX.  THE  BROTHERS  ...................................................  324 

XL.  LOST,  A  WIFE  ......................................................  335 

XLI.  FOUND,  A  FATHER  ...............................................  346 

XLII.  THE  BROKEN  RING  .............................................  360 

XLm.  SMOOTH  SEAS  .........  ..  ...........................................  371 

XLIV.  CURRENTS  AND  COUNTER  CURRENTS  .......................  383 

XLV.  THE  DISCLOSURE  .................................................  396 

XLVI.  ALL'S  WELL  THAT  ENDS  WILL  ...........................  407 


THE  FATAL  SECRET. 


CHAPTER  I. 
THE  MORNING   WALK. 

IT  was  a  lovely  morning  in  June,  one  of  those  quiet,  tran- 
quil mornings  that  woo  fond  memories  from  their  slum- 
berous shades  to  a  silent  communion  with  the  inmost 
thoughts.  The  birds  sang  sweetly,  and  the  zephyrs  sported 
leisurely  with  the  soft  young  leaves ;  but  they  were  listened 
to  only  in  far-off  days  when  the  bright  anticipations  of  the 
fresh  heart  kept  time  with  the  warblers'  merry  songs  and 
the  dance  of  the  morning  breeze. 

Lieutenant  Edgarton  was  seated  in  the  cool  shade,  his 
calm  blue  eyes  intently  fixed  upon  the  listless  expanse  of 
waters  before  him.  The  sun  had  not  yet  left  his  eastern 
bed,  and  shadows  lingered  in  the  green  wood  and  rested  all 
along  the  shores  of  the  lake.  The  young  man  heeded  not 
the  cheerful  carol  of  the  birds  that  were  warbling  their 
morning  songs,  so  occupied  was  he  in  listening  to  the  sweet 
music  that  came  in  plaintive  strains  from  memory's  bower, 
up  through  the  majestic  sweep  of  the  past,  and  filled  the 
secret  chambers  of  his  soul  with  thrilling  melody.  But  di< 
cordant  fingers  had  touched  the  silver  strings,  and  the  coloi 
deepened  upon  his  flushed  cheeks,  and  his  clear  eyx 
sparkled  with  an  unwonted  brilliance. 

"  Ned,  as  I  live !"  he  exclaimed,  starting  to  his  feet,  as  he 
heard  a  footstep  near  him.  "  What  has  possessed  the  power 
to  draw  you  forth  at  this  early  hour  ?" 

"  On  my  way,  sir,  to  the  mission  house  to  ask  prayers 

11 


12  THE  MORNING   WALK. 

for  our  lost  lieutenant,  supposed  to  have  been  spirited  away 
in  the  silent  watches  of  the  night,  as  the  poet  has  it.  But 
as  I  have  had  the  good  luck  to  stumble  upon  him,  I  will 
go  no  farther,"  he  said,  bowing  obsequiously;  and  with  a 
merry  laugh  the  two  seated  themselves  upon  the  beach. 

"  I  am  glad  you  have  come,"  continued  the  lieutenant, 
after  a  moment's  pause,  "for  my  thoughts  were  twisting 
themselves  into  rather  an  uncomfortable  snarl.  Ned,  pass 
that  little  pine  stick  over  to  me,  will  you  ?  I  begin  to  be- 
lieve, with  you,  there  is  soothing  music  in  falling  chips 
whittled  by  one's  own  hand,  for  my  dull  English  ear  seems 
to  hear  its  feeble  strains.  I  wondeA  had  not  thought  of 
it  before.  No  doubt  it  would  have  driven  away  these  spec- 
tral forms  of  the  past,  before  they  had  so  disturbed  me." 

"  You  astonish  me,  Charles,"  replied  his  companion ; 
"you,  whom  every  one  supposes  to  be  the  happiest  fellow 
alive,  telling  of  spectral  visions  and  troubled  thoughts. 
I  can  never  believe  it.  Surely  your  digestion  must  have 
become  impaired,  while  idle  fancies  have  armed  themselves 
with  horrors  and  passed  in  review  through  your  midnight 
dreams.  I  only  wish  my  early  history  was  as  pleasingly 
glowing  as  I  fully  believe  yours  to  have  been." 

His  companion  smiled,  but  made  no  reply.  After  a  few 
moment's  silence,  the  lieutenant  threw  down  his  knife  and 
stick,  and  taking  a  letter  from  his  pocket,  bearing  numerous 
postmarks  and  seals,  opened  it : 

"Listen,  Ned;  I  will  read  you  an  extract  which,  no 
doubt,  has  been  the  cause  of  my  dyspeptic  symptoms : 

" '  Tears  are  falling  fast  from  my  weary,  watching  eyes,  as 
1  commence  this  letter  to  my  heart's  best  treasure,  far,  far 
away.  I  am  growing  prematurely  old  and  feeble.  Five 
*ong  years  of  patient  waiting  and  painful  anxieties  have 
oowed  my  erect  form  and  scattered  silver  threads  among 
these  dark  locks. 

"'How  much  longer  must  your  mother  wait  for  her 
truant  boy  ?  I  had  fondly  hoped  that  your  residence  at 
West  Point  would  have  satisfied  your  desire  for  absence 


THE  MORNING    WALK.  1 1 

from  home.  I  have  eagerly  waited  for  your  return.  But 
your  last  letter  tells  me  that  you  have  strayed  still  farther 
away,  and  new  fears  for  your  safety  have  been  added  to  my 
already  overpowering  store.  Lady  Eveline  is  very  anxious 
about  you.  I  could  but  show  her  your  letter,  in  which  you 
did  not  mention  her  name.  What  could  it  mean  ?' " 

Here  the  young  man  paused,  and  refolding  the  letter,  re- 
turned it  to  his  pocket. 

"  I  have  read  enough  of  that,  Ned.  You  see,  Lady  Ed- 
garton  is  very  anxious  to  see  her  son,  while  that  same 
naughty  son  is  not,  as  yet,  ready  to  gratify  his  affectionate 
mother.  Bad  case,  isn't  it,  my  good  fellow?  But  where 
there  is  no  remedy,  it  must  be  endured.  Isn't  it  so,  Ned  ?" 

Edward  Herbert  raised  his  dark  eyes  languidly  to  hia 
companion's  face : 

"  I  will  tell  you  what,  lieutenant :  could  I  receive  such  a 
letter  from  my  mother,  Uncle  Sam's  chains,  strong  as  they 
are,  would  not  possess  the  power  to  hold  me  in  this  detested 
epot  one  hour.  Do  you  see  that?  It  is  a  tear,  and  I  am 
not  ashamed  of  it,  although  I  did  not  suppose  such  a 
liquid  drop  of  feeling  could  be  wrung  from  my  heart.  But 
there  it  is ;  and  the  name  of  '  mother,'  as  it  sounded  once 
more  through  the  long-closed  chambers  of  affection,  sum- 
moned it  forth.  My  mother  knows  not  where  I  am,  nor 
shall  she  ever  know,  until  one  great  object  of  my  life  is 
accomplished.  But  pardon  me,"  he  continued,  rising  and 
taking  the  hand  of  his  companion;  "I  see  that  I  have 
astonished  you  in  return.  The  drum  is  calling  the  strag- 
glers in.  Let  us  go." 

While  the  two  are  walking  arm  in  arm  back  to  the  fort, 
we  will  take  a  look  for  one  moment  around  the  island. 

Mackinaw — or  Michilimackinack,  as  it  was  once  called— 
is  situated  in  the  straits  which  connect  Lake  Huron  with 
Lake  Michigan.  Its  original  name  signifies  "  great  turtle," 
which,  in  its  singular  conformation,  it  not  a  little  resem- 
bles. Its  circumference  is  about  seven  miles,  through 
nearly  the  whole  of  which  the  island  rises  precipitously 
2 


14  THE  MORNING    WALK. 

from  the  waters  of  the  lake  to  the  height  of  a  ln>  xirod  or  a 
hundred  and  fifty  feet,  composed  principally  of  rocks  and 
sandy  soil,  while  the  irregular  banks  are  mostly  covered  with 
small  hut  luxuriant  shrubs  and  trees. 

At  the  time  our  story  opens,  there  were  very  few  inhabit- 
ants on  the  island,  and  those  mostly  fur-traders,  who  came 
every  season  to  make  purchases  of  the  Indians,  who  flocked 
thither  from  the  various  quarters  in  which  the  aggressive 
steps  of  the  white  man  had  suffered  them  to  find  a  tempo- 
rary lodgment.  The  latter  bartered  their  winter  stores  of 
skins  for  worthless  but  gaudy  trifles,  or  much  oftener  for 
the  accursed  "  fire-water,"  of  which  they  were  particularly 
fond.  Thousands  were  frequently  there  congregated,  dot- 
ting the  shore  with  their  wigwams,  and  making  night 
hideous  with  their  wild  music  and  dancing. 

On  the  summit  of  this  little  island,  which,  from  its  ele- 
vation, could  be  seen  at  a  great  distance  by  those  approach- 
ing it,  stood  the  fort,  toward  which  we  left  Herbert  and 
Edgarton  retracing  their  steps.  On  one  side  of  the  island 
is  a  crescent-shaped  indentation  of  the  coast,  which  forms 
the  harbor,  while  near  it,  close  upon  the  banks,  on  an  ele- 
vated point,  stands  the  mission  house,  in  which  some  sixty 
little  boys  and  girls  had  been  gathered  together  from  their 
wild  savage  homes,  and  fed  and  clothed  by  the  American 
and  Foreign  Missionary  Society,  under  the  supervision  of 
the  kind  and  self-sacrificing  servants  of  Him  who  bade  them 
"Go  preach  my  gospel  to  every  creature."  Well  did  the 
work  of  civilization  and  regeneration  prosper  in  their  hands. 
Many  will  there  be  in  the  last  day  "  to  rise  up  and  call  them 
blessed." 

A  rude  chapel  stood  near  the  mission  house,  in  which 
the  word  of  God  was  faithfully  preached  every  Sabbath  to 
a  motley  group  collected  from  various  localities. 

What  a  picture  this  little  island  would  have  presented  to 
a  casual  observer  I  But  who  can  gauge  the  mighty  influ- 
ences that  have  been  scattered  over  the  whole  world  from 
that  little  isolated  spot  of  earth  upon  the  waters  ? 


CHAPTER  II. 

TEE  ISLAND  BEAUTY. 

CHARLES  EDGARTON,  at  present  holding  the  rank 
\J  of  lieutenant  in  the  United  States  army,  was  known 
among  his  companions  as  "  the  happy  young  Englishman." 
He  rarely  alluded  to  his  previous  life  or  history ;  and  when 
he  did,  nothing  was  said  which  would  induce  any  one  to 
suppose  that  he  had  ever  been  more  than  they  then  beheld 
him — a  merry-hearted  yet  studious  aspirant  after  military 
distinction.  The  frequent  letters,  however,  written  by  him, 
bearing  the  address  "  Lady  Anna  Edgarton,  Edgarton  Hall," 
had  excited  a  peculiar  kind  of  respect  and  regard  for  him 
in  the  minds  of  his  comrades. 

"  That  is  most  conclusive  proof  to  me,"  remarked  a  friend 
to  him,  one  day,  entering  his  room  and  carelessly  pointing 
to  a  letter  lying  on  the  table  upon  which  the  ink  was  scarcely 
dry,  "  that  you  are  either  a  nobleman's  son  in  disguise,  or 
a  scion  of  some  illustrious  house  reduced,  by  a  change  of 
fortune,  to  a  search  for  pleasure  away  from  home." 

Edgarton  smiled  as  he  remarked,  in  a  studiously  indiffer- 
ent manner, 

"  A  point  fully  proven  needs  no  further  argument,  I  be- 
lieve. But  lest  the  disguise  in  which  you  seek  to  envelop 
me  should  create  a  suspicion  of  my  loyalty,  I  will  satisfy 
your  curiosity  in  a  measure.  It  is  true  the  restless  Icnging 
for  change  brought  me  here.  What  special  motive  impelled 
me,  it  is  needless  to  my  present  purpose  to  mention.  But 
my  oath  of  allegiance  to  America  and  liberty  was  as  truth- 
fully taken  as  though  my  first  breath  had  not  been  drawn 
upon  English  soil.  Some  day,  my  good  fellow,"  he  con- 
tinued, clapping'; is  hand  familiarly  upon  the  shoulder  of 

ift 


16  THE  ISLAND  BEAUTY. 

his  friend,  "yon  may  hear  more  of  your  mysterious  ac- 
quaintance. Until  then,  pray  do  not  grow  suspicious  of 
me  because  my  letterp  chance  to  bear  such  an  imposing 
superscription. " 

"  Suspicious !"  exclaimed  his  friend,  joining  in  with  Ed- 
garton's  merry  humor.  "  You  mistake  me.  A  slight  tremor 
of  reverence  ranfover  me  and  moved  my  rattling  Yankee 
tongue  to  utter  expressions  which  seem  to  you — and  per- 
haps truthfully — to  indicate  curiosity  on  my  part ;  it  is  all 
over  now." 

Edgarton,  apparently  not  noticing  the  last  remark,  con- 
tinued : 

"  It  is  true,  I  can  hardly  convince  myself  with  good  rea- 
soning in  regard  to  my  present  position.  A  mere  boyish 
whim,  I  take  it  to  be,  yet  I  rather  enjoy  it.  You  see  our 
English  tactics  were  not  quite  satisfactory  to  one  of  my 
peculiar  military  proclivities.  That  must  be  all,  I  appre- 
hend. But  I  love  your  country  with  purely  filial  devotion, 
and  I  should  even  be  proud  to  aid,  if  need  be,  in  maintain- 
ing its  present  lofty  eminence  in  the  eyes  of  all  nations,  my 
own  country  not  at  all  excepted." 

Thus  dismissing  the  subject,  he  had  little  occasion  for 
alluding  to  it  again. 

The  Sabbath  came. 

"Do  you  visit  the  chapel  to-day?"  asked  Herbert  of 
Edgarton,  soon  after  the  morning  meal  was  over,  as  they 
strolled  leisurely  out  into  the  bright,  bracing  sunshine,  and 
looked  down  toward  the  narrow  bay,  whose  waters  were 
dotted  with  the  heavy  boats  of  the  traders  and  the  Indians 
gay  canoes. 

"  Well,  yes,"  replied  Edgarton,  hesitatingly ;  "  I  think  I 
will.  These  Sunday  hours  prove  rather  tedious  when  one 
has  nothing  to  do  or  to  think  about.  Besides,  to  tell  the 
truth,  Herbert,  I'd  just  like  to  see  that  beautiful  wild-flower 
I  heard  you  expressing  yourself  so  warmly  about,  only  a 
day  or  two  since.  I  suppose  one  needs  pay  nothing  for  so 


THE  ISLAND  BEAUTY.  17 

magnificent  a  sight,  eh?  A  beauty,  shining  forth  in  this 
gloomy,  uncivilized  spot  of  heathendom,  must  be  a  luxury 
altogether  unlooked  for,  and  I  shall  be  happy — most  happy 
— sir,  to  accompany  you  and  feed  my  starved  vision  once 
more  with  delicious  sweets." 

"  I  had  quite  forgotten  that  the  island  beauty  had  been 
ei  ok,  and  that  you  had  not  seen  her,"  remarked  Herbert,  aa 
the  laugh  of  his  friend  died  away.  "But  that  she  is  a 
beauty,  you  will  be  free  to  admit  when  once  you  have  seen 
her.  My  advice  is,  barricade  your  heart  if  you  do  not  wish 
it  lost  in  the  general  smash ;  for  half  the  soldiers  in  the 
fort  have  lost  theirs,  poor  fellows !  and  sigh  hopelessly  be- 
cause such  is  the  fact." 

"  Yourself  included,  I  suppose !  Well,  none  are  so 
capable  of  portraying  the  ease  and  bliss  of  drowning,  as 
those  who  have  tried  it.  I'll  risk  my  susceptible  heart, 
however,  among  a  score  of  these  tawny  maids.  I  have  no 
particular  relish  for  that  kind  of  dainties." 

At  the  appointed  hour  the  two  friends  descended  the 
well-beaten  path  which  led  to  the  chapel,  which  stood 
upon  the  bank  of  the  water.  It  was  a  strangely  blended 
group  that  presented  itself  to  the  eyes  of  the  haughty  young 
Englishman,  as  he  stood  before  the  open  door  and  looked  in 
upon  it.  On  the  right  was  a  large  representation  from  the 
fort  in  their  military  dress,  with  their  muskets  reclining 
beside  them,  while  just  in  the  rear  sat  a  goodly  number  of 
the  inhabitants  of  the  island,  men,  women  and  children,  in 
•their  holiday  garb,  varying  in  style  to  suit  the  tastes  and 
circumstances  of  the  wearer.  Opposite,  and  commencing 
near  the  desk  of  the  speaker,  sat  the  teachers  of  the  mission 
school,  surrounded  by  nearly  threescore  of  swarthy  little 
faces  and  forms  in  their  half-civilized  dresses,  looking  very 
contented  and  happy  as  they  patiently  waited  for  their 
"  great  teacher"  to  talk  to  them.  At  a  distance  back,  a  few 
fathers  and  mothers  were  sitting  in  their  native  dress,  look- 
ing rather  uncomfortable  in  their  strange  position,  yet  ev*- 


18  THE  ISLAND  BEAUTY. 

dently  smothering  the  fire  of  their  savage  natures  to  hear  a 
little  more  of  the  "Great  Spirit"  of  whom  their  children 
had  heard  so  much. 

At  first  Edgarton  felt  inclined  to  laugh  at  what  he  con- 
sidered the  ludicrous  spectacle  before  him,  but  the  voice  of 
deep  supplication  broke  upon  his  ear  and  filled  the  place 
with  a  holy  solemnity  which  imperceptibly  pervaded  the 
heart  of  the  listener  with  reverence  and  awe.  Then  there 
arose  upon  the  surrounding  stillness  the  song  of  thanks- 
giving, and  many  little  voices  that  had  early  learned  the 
war-whoop  and  the  savage  cry  were  attuned  to  the  sweet 
melody  of  praise. 

What  a  conquest  was  this !  What  a  sight !  Over  it  angels 
might  rejoice  and  the  heart  of  man  give  thanks.  Edgarton 
could  but  feel  all  this,  as  he  seated  himself  in  that  lowly 
house  of  God,  and  listened  to  the  morning  song  as  it  was 
wafted  upward  on  the  soft  warm  breath  of  that  beautiful 
spring  day. 

A  few  moments  more,  and  Edgarton's  eyes  looked  for  an 
object  they  had  not  yet  beheld.  "  A  beautiful  squaw  would 
be  a  rare  sight  to  gaze  upon,"  he  mentally  repeated  to  him- 
self; "I  really  hope  I  may  not  be  disappointed." 

He  was  not.  When  the  singing  was  ended  and  the  little 
warblers  were  reseated,  he  espied  for  the  first  time  a  girl  of 
about  fourteen  summers,  sitting  by  the  side  of  the  pastor's 
wife  and  affectionately  holding  her  hand.  Her  large,  dark, 
dreamy  eyes,  so  full  of  tenderness  and  love  as  they  rested 
upon  the  speaker,  had  lost  all  of  their  ancestral  fire,  beam- 
ing forth  as  they  did  calmly  and  quietly  their  new  light  of 
peace  and  love.  Her  long  black  hair  hung  in  glossy  ringlets 
around  her  head,  and  fell  gracefully  about  her  shoulders. 
Yes,  she  was  beautiful.  Her  complexion,  to  be  sure,  could 
not  be  mistaken;  yet  how  ruddily  and  freely  the  roses 
bloomed  upon  her  cheeks  and  tipped  her  lips  with  their 
delicate  blush  I  It  was  no  wonder  she  was  called  the  "  wild- 
flower  of  Mackinaw."  Like  a  rose  blooming  in  a  barren 


THE  ISLAND  BEAUTY.  19 

waste,  did  she  appear  to  the  wondering  eyes  of  Edgarton  as 
he  gazed  upon  her. 

"  Provoking !"  he  exclaimed  to  himself  just  as  the  text— 
which,  hy  the  way,  he  failed  to  hear — was  read  from  the 
desk — "  really  provoking  that  so  much  symmetry  and  grace 
should  be  enveloped  in  coarse  plain  calico,  and  fitted  so 
tightly  about  the  throat  too.  Queer  taste  these  Christian 
ladies  have,  to  be  sure."  His  reverie  was  here  interrupted 
by  a  hand  laid  carelessly  upon  his  own ;  and  turning,  he  be- 
held the  merry,  laughing  eye  of  Herbert  fixed  upon  him. 

"  Plow  did  you  like  the  sermon  ?"  inquired  Herbert,  on 
their  way  back  to  the  fort. 

"  Very  well,"  replied  Edgarton ;  "  not  quite  equal  to  our 
English  clergy,  but  will  do." 

"  The  text  was  a  strange  one,"  again  suggested  the  first 
speaker,  "wasn't  it?" 

"  Let  me  see.    I  have  quite  forgotten  it." 

"  Or  rather  you  didn't  hear  it,"  replied  Herbert,  with  a 
laugh.  "Come,  now,  tell  us  your  opinion  of  the  island 
beauty,  for  I  saw  your  starved  vision  feeding  long,  and  with 
apparent  good  relish,  upon  her  pretty  face." 

Edgarton  laughed. 

"  I  hope  I  did  not  attract  attention  by  my  rude  gazing," 
he  replied,  seemingly  annoyed  by  his  friend's  raillery. 

"  Oh  no ;  I  presume  no  one  noticed  you  but  myself,  and  I 
was  watching  for  it.  You  think  she  bears  her  title  well  ?" 

"  Most  gloriously ;  she  is,  in  fact,  a  perfect  model  of 
beauty.  -Yet,  strange  as  it  may  seem  to  you,  my  heart 
continues  to  discharge  its  proper  functions  in  quite  a 
healthy,  normal  manner.  But  one  thing  strikes  me,"  he 
continued,  "  as  rather  peculiar.  I  was  not  before  aware 
that  nature  ever  adorned  her  wild  children  of  the  woods 
with  such  a  superfluity  of  curls." 

"Her  father,  you  remember,  was  a  French  trader — a 
Canadian,  I  believe,"  answered  Herbert  as  the  two  sepa- 
rated, and  Edgarton  proceeded  to  his  room. 


CHAPTER  III. 
HERBERTS  SAD  STORY. 

u  TTJOW  now,  my  poor  fellow?1'  said  Edgarton,  entering 

XI  the  room  of  Herbert,  one  pleasant  evening,  and  fill- 
ing its  occupant  pacing  the  floor  with  rapid  strides ;  "  what 
has  happened  to  you?  Something  truly  terrible  mast  have 
crossed  your  path,  so  to  agitate  you.  Calm  yourself,  and 
confide  in  me.  It  will  do  you  good ;  sympathy  takes  away 
half  the  burden." 

"Your  theory  is  good  in  the  abstract,  Edgarton,"  said 
Herbert,  pausing  suddenly  before  his  friend,  and  looking 
wildly  at  him,  "but  it  will  do  me  no  good." 

"  You  have  not  tried  me,"  Edgarton  pleaded.  "  I  do  not 
ask  your  confidence  from  idle  curiosity,  but  with  a  wish  to 
be  of  service  to  you.  Will  you  not  give  it  to  me  ?" 

"I  will,"  Herbert  replied,  at  last,  with  great  emotion; 
"  I  will  tell  you  alL  But  you  must  bear  with  me  if  I 
prove  tedious,  for,  in  revealing  the  cause  of  my  present 
emotion,  I  must  go  back  link  by  link  in  its  chain  of  events, 
tracing  each  carefully.  Can  you  endure  the  penalty  ?" 

Edgarton  conducted  his  friend  to  a  seat  by  the  open 
window.  It  was  a  lovely  evening.  A  halo  of  golden  light 
left  by  the  departed  sun  still  lingered  upon  the  mountain's 
crest.  The  gentle  breeze  came  dancing  in,  laden  with  the 
evening  minstrelsy  of  happy  birds  and  the  distant  music 
of  the  surging  waves,  and  played  wantonly  with  the  soft 
brown  curls  of  the  young  Englishman,  while  its  grateful 
breath  fanned  the  brow  of  his  excited  companion. 

Both  were  silent  for  a  few  moments,  gazing  out  upon 
the  stillness  of  the  twilight  hour,  when  Herbert  quietly 
•aid: 

20 


HERBERTS  SAD  STORY.  21 

"  How  such  an  evening  as  this  carries  me  back  to  my 
childhood's  home  ! — that  holy  spot  of  earth  where  memory's 
BOU!  loves  to  linger.  In  a  pleasant  little  village,  in  one  of 
our  Eastern  States,  the  home  of  my  early  childhood  still 
stands,  embowered  in  roses  which  fond  hands  have  twined 
about  it.  There  was  my  only  sister  born,  the  idol  of  my 
boyhood's  days,  my  sweet  guiding  angel  when  temptation 
assailed  me.  My  poor,  poor  sister !"  Pausing  a  moment  to 
wipe  away  the  falling  tears,  he  continued:/'  Oh  how  I  loved 
that  sister !  The  first  kiss  I  ever  imprinted  upon  her  little 
velvet  cheek  riveted  a  bond  that  death  itself  cannot  unloose, 
and  warmly  did  she  return  my  affection.  Then  came  the 
mirthful  school-days,  when  I  was  her  constant  companion. 
No  boyish  sports  were  sufficient  to  draw  me  from  her  side, 
unless,  as  it  not  unfrequently  happened,  Willie,  the  son  of 
our  village  pastor,  or  his  sister  Nettie,  had  her  in  particular 
charge.  Willie  was  about  my  age,  and  as  amiable  and  gen- 
tle as  the  lovely  Nettie ;  and  as  our  homes  stood  side  by 
Bide,  all  our  joys  were  shared  together.  Those  were  indeed 
happy  days,  but  they  could  not  always  last.  The  spring 
must  develop  into  changeful  summer,  then  into  the  mature 
autumn,  and  at  last  we  must  encounter  the  frosts  of  stormy 
winter.  I  was  nineteen,  and  four  years  my  sister's  senior, 
when  a  shadow,  dark  and  gloomy,  settled  down  upon  our 
quiet  home,  casting  a  sombre  pall  upon  our  future.  My 
father  was  no  more;  his  chair  was  vacant  at  the  family 
board ;  his  voice  was  hushed  at  the  consecrated  family  altar. 
My  feeble  mother  almost  sank  beneath  the  heavy  blow.  / 
must  act !  must  step  forth  upon  life  a  man.  Well  for  me 
had  I  maintained  the  dignity  of  such  a  position.  But  how 
§hall  I  proceed  ? — how  look  again  at  the  dark  picture  to 
which  I  would  for  ever  close  my  eyes  ?" 

Edgarton  was  about  to  speak,  when  Herbert  interrupted 
him:  "  I  know  what  you  would  say,  but  I  must  tell  you  all. 
I  had  been  for  three  years  in  my  father's  store,  and  had 
taken  much  pains  to  fit  myself  for  bookkeeping.  In  such 


22  HERBERT'S  SAD  STORY. 

capacity  I  entered  a  store  in  a  city  a  few  miles  distant  In 
this  establishment  was  a  clerk  of  about  my  own  age ;  affable 
and  engaging  in  his  manners,  he  soon  won  my  confidence 
and  affection.  In  a  few  weeks  I  left  the  quiet  boarding- 
house  which  my  mother  had  selected  for  me,  and  located 
myself  with  my  new  friend  in  a  more  pretentious  establish- 
ment, where  greater  freedom  was  at  my  command. 

" '  Ned,'  he  said  to  me  one  evening  as  we  were  walking  in 
the  street,  '  I  have  an  old  friend  in  here  to  whom  I  believe 
I  have  never  introduced  you.  Let  us  drop  in  for  a  moment.' 
The  place  appeared  to  be  a  very  respectable  saloon,  notwith- 
standing the  glittering  glass  which  dazzled  the  eye  upon 
entering,  and  my  new  acquaintance  proved  to  be  a  very 
entertaining  young  man.  An  hour  passed  rapidly  away, 
and  we  arose  to  take  our  leave. 

"  *  We  have  some  new  port,  gentlemen,'  said  an  acquaint- 
ance; 'will  you  not  try  a  glass?  We  call  it  very  fine.'  The 
decanter  was  handed  down,  the  glasses  filled,  one  passed  to 
me.  '  Your  health,  Ned,'  said  my  companion,  raising  his 
to  his  lips.  '  I  never  take  anything  of  the  kind,'  I  answered, 
pushing  the  glass  from  me.  Both  indulged  in  a  loud  derisive 
laugh.  'A  little  green,'  suggested  my  companion  to  his 
friend ;  then  turning  to  me,  he  said,  '  Drink  it,  Ned ;  you 
don't  know  how  good  it  is.  It  will  do  no  one  any  harm. 
You  will  soon  get  over  those  puritanical  notions  of  yours 
if  you  stay  here,'  he  continued,  slapping  me  upon  the 
shoulder. 

"  His  prophecies  only  proved  too  true.  In  a  few  months 
1  had  stepped  from  the  elementary  principles  of  wine-bib- 
bing into  the  more  extensive  sphere  of  brandy-tippling.  At 
first  I  returned  every  Saturday  night  to  the  dear  ones  at 
home,  but  my  visits  soon  became  less  frequent.  I  noticed  a 
dimness  in  my  mother's  eyes  as  she  gazed  upon  me,  and  I 
could  not  bear  the  tender  words  of  admonition  and  warning 
I  there  received.  'Oh,  my  brother,'  often  whispered  a 
gentle  voice  at  parting,  'do  nothing  in  that  wicked  city 


HERBERT'S  SAD  STORY.  23 

which  you  know  our  angel  father  would  disapprove,  or  that 
will  ever  wring  bitter  tears  from  our  dear  mother's  heart' 
Then  came  the  loving  kiss  that  always  aroused  my  better 
nature,  which  for  two  or  three  days  would  refuse  to  be 
hushed  to  slumbering  repose.  My  companion,  Fred  Hun- 
ter, saw  this,  and  suggested  plans  to  keep  me  away  from  this 
home  influence. 

" '  I  must  go  home !'  I  said,  positively,  upon  one  occasion, 
as  he  was  endeavoring  to  dissuade  me — { I  must  certainly 
go,  or  Anna  will  weep  her  dear  eyes  out ;  it  is  her  birthday 
and  she  writes  me  that  she  has  a  pleasant  surprise  for  me, 
and  that  I  must  not  disappoint  her.' 

" '  Then  why  not  ask  me  to  go  with  you  ?  It  is  insufferably 
dull  when  you  are  away ;  your  mother  and  sister  will  not 
take  it  amiss,  I  am  sure.' 

"  So  it  was  arranged,  and  that  evening  another  was  added 
to  our  little  circle.  The  hours  passed  pleasantly  away.  I 
thought  that  Anna  never  appeared  so  lovely  before.  She 
was  attired  in  a  plain  dress  of  white,  with  a  wreath  of  myrtle 
and  rose  buds  encircling  her  brow  and  nestling  among  her 
flowing  curls.  This  was,  she  told  me,  Nettie's  work. 

" '  Anna,'  said  I,  late  in  the  evening,  drawing  her  aside 
from  the  entertaining  voice  of  our  visitor,  upon  which  she 
had  for  a  long  time  hung,  'you  have  not  revealed  that  pleas- 
ant surprise  which  you  have  in  store  for  me.  I  am  growing 
impatient.' 

"  '  To-morrow  will  do,'  she  answered,  while  a  deep  blush 
suffused  her  beautiful  face.  '  It  is  only  a  letter ;  I  will  put 
it  in  your  room  for  you  to  dream  over,'  she  whispered  a 
moment  after. 

"  A  change  had  evidently  passed  over  her ;  a  shadow 
seemed  flitting  across  those  sunny  smiles  which  the  winning 
words  of  our  guest  were  calling  forth.  I  was  proud  of  my 
sister,  and  bad  as  I  was,  I  could  not  look  upon  the  scene 
before  me  without  a  pang — a  regret  that  I  had  placed  her 
under  the  influence  of  his  dangerous  fascinations. 


24  HERBERT'S  SAD  STORY. 

"  According  to  her  promise,  a  letter  lay  upon  my  table 
that  night.  It  was  from  my  early  friend  Willie,  Nettie's 
darling  brother.  He  was  in  college,  preparing  himself  for 
his  future  vocation.  My  heart  throbbed  with  a  wild  delight 
as  I  read  the  words  of  his  ardent  love,  in  which  he  couched 
his  petition  for  her  hand.  '  How  happy  she  must  be !' 
thought  I  as  I  folded  the  letter.  '  How  happy  we  might 
all  be,  were  I  worthy  the  hand  of  his  sister !  But  no ;  she 
could  not  love  me  if  she  knew  all,  and  I  would  never  de- 
ceive her.' 

"  Well  would  it  have  been  if  the  vows  and  resolutions 
made  that  night,  as  I  tossed  sleeplessly  upon  my  bed,  had 
been  remembered  and  unbroken. 

"  I  need  not  tell  you  of  all  the  little  acts  and  cunning 
devices  used  by  the  subtle  foe  to  steal  away  the  pure  heart 
of  my  idol  sister.  I  had  introduced  the  serpent  into  our 
little  paradise,  and  slowly  but  surely  he  wound  his  deadly 
folds  around  its  cherished  one,  and  breathed  poison  into  her 
listening  ear.  She  had  loved  the  noble,  the  gentle  student, 
and  would  have  given  herself  to  him,  but  Fred  Hunter 
had  stepped  in  between  her  and  the  humble  disciple  of 
Him  who  is  meek  and  lowly,  and  all  unsuspectingly  she 
had  been  dazzled  by  the  greater  light. 

"Shall  I  tell  you  more*  In  less  than  two  years  from 
the  night  he  entered  our  peaceful  home,  my  sister  had  sunk 
to  an  early  grave,  ruined  and  broken-hearted.  And  as  if 
this  was  not  enough,  by  her  side  he  slept  who  had  chosen 
her  for  his  heart's  idol.  When  he  saw  her  fall,  he  sank 
beside  her,  and  they  repose  together.  Was  I  not  her  de- 
stroyer ?  Did  he  not  first  pollute  the  purity  of  my  soul,  and 
thereby  effect  his  fiendish  design  ?  Oh,  my  poor  mother ! 
I  knew  she  must  blame  her  son,  and  I  could  not  endure 
the  sight  of  the  ruin  which  I  had  wrought.  I  fled  !  In  a 
fit  of  despair  I  enlisted  in  the  army,  and  here  I  am  to-night, 
after  six  long  years  of  bitter  separation. 

"  But  the  strangest  part  rem.dns  to  be  told.    That  villain — 


HERBERT'S  SAD  STORY.  25 

my  sister's  murderer,  the  destroyer  of  my  hopes,  the  cruel 
fiend  that  has  broken  my  widowed  mother's  heart — sleeps 
under  this  roof,  contaminates  the  air  I  breathe  with  his 
foul  breath !  Can  I  long  survive  in  such  an  atmosphere  ? 
I  did  not  know  him  until  he  whispered  his  name  into  my 
ear  to-night.  Do  you — can  you  wonder  that  I  am  as  you 
find  me  ?  Rather,  do  you  not  wonder  that  I  am  riot  alto- 
gether, and  wholly,  a  maniac  ?" 

Edgarton  tried  to  jeply,  but  could  not  speak. 

"  Now  you  know  all,  my  friend.    I  see  by  the  pale  moon- 
light that  you  pity  me.    I  thank  you  for  your  patience  in 
listening  to  my  sad  story,  and  will  trouble  you  no  further 
Good-night  I" 
I 


CHAPTER  IV. 

A  SUDDEN  SURPRISE. 

ON  a  low,  shadowy  point  of  the  island,  near  the  foot  of 
Lovers'  Rock,  where  the  tall  pines  mingled  their  plain- 
tive sighs  all  day  together,  sat  Edgarton  and  Herhert,  looking 
out  upon  the  sleeping  waters  of  the  lake.  It  was  a  winsome 
afternoon,  and  all  nature  seemed  hushed  into  a  pleasing 
reverie.  The  golden  sunbeams  enjoyed  their  mystic  dance 
upon  the  waters  with  uninterrupted  glee,  for  the  zephyrs 
had  all  retired  to  cool  and  silent  shades,  and  thither  the 
friends  had  wandered  to  enjoy  their  refreshing  influences. 

"  You  cannot,  however,  deny  to  me,"  said  Herbert,  taking 
up  the  thread  of  their  interrupted  conversation,  "  that  I  am 
most  uncomfortably  situated.  Who  can  foretell  the  conse- 
quences if  that  fiend  continues  to  hiss  through  his  polluting 
lips  into  my  ears  those  fondly  cherished  names,  now  dearer 
than  ever  to  my  heart? — those  names,  too,  which  his  demo- 
niac vileness  has  already  clothed  with  infamy  and  shame  ? 
His  very  breath,  mingling  with  the  air  I  breathe,  seems  to 
kindle  a  Tartarean  fire  within  me !" 

Who,  while  gazing  into  his  flaming  eye  and  seeing  the 
dreadful  hatred  burning  there,  could  doubt  it?  His  com- 
panion certainly  could  not.  Yet  he  replied,  calmly, 

"  Herbert,  you  have  my  heartfelt  sympathy ;  for  were  I 
in  your  place,  I  feel  sure  that  I  should  not  be  more  of  a 
moral  philosopher  than  yourself,  and  I  cannot  preach  to 
you  upon  the  nature  of  patience  and  submission.  All  the 
advice  I  can  give  you  is  to  obtain  a  leave  of  absence  for 
as  long  a  time  as  possible,  and  to  quit  this  place  speedily, 
trusting  to  the  future  for  some  agreeable  change." 


A  SUDDEN  SURPRISE.  27 

'I  appreciate  your  kindness,  Edgarton,  although  my 
fc  iiid  cannot  for  a  single  moment  entertain  your  well- 
meant  advice.  Why  should  I  deprive  myself  of  the  society 
of  the  only  true  and  sympathizing  friend  whom  I  have 
known  for  years,  and  make  myself  a  lonely  wanderer, 
aimless  and  objectless,  unless  it  be  to  run  away  from  pres- 
ent disquietude  merely  to  plunge  myself  into  deeper  and 
more  interminable  despondency  ?  Had  I  a  mother  and  a 
Lady  Eveline,  like  yourself,  grieving  at  my  absence  and 
affectionately  pleading  for  my  return,  it  would  be  quite  a 
different  affair.  No,  I  must  remain  where  I  am,  and  trust 
to  the  overshadowing  influence  of  an  angel  sister's  love  and 
a  Christian  mother's  prayers  to  protect  me  from  the  great 
temptation  that  rises  up  before  me  in  all  the  strength  and 
power  of  an  unshorn  Samson." 

"  Herbert,  how  do  you  know  that  your  mother  is  not  still 
living,  and  even  now  pleading  with  tears  that  her  heavenly 
Father  may  spare  her  sinking  form  until  she  shall  once 
more  see  her  only  and  beloved  child  ?" 

"  Edgarton,  my  dear  friend,  spare  me ;  you  know  not  the 
agony  which  your  words  awaken  within  me.  Oh  that  I 
could  believe  that  she  yet  lives !  But  a  spectral  fear  con- 
tin  ually  haunts  me,  and  I  ever  hear  the  awful  words,  You 
are  her  murderer  !  No,  she  does  not  live.  That  frail  nature 
could  not  have  borne  up  under  the  repeated  blows'of  be- 
reavement and  sorrow.  But  even  if  she  does  live,  I  know 
not  where  to  go  to  find  her.  On  my  way  to  this  place  I 
accidentally  learned  that  my  uncle  had  left  Boston  and  re- 
moved to  a  distant  city,  taking  his  widowed  sister  with  him, 
and  that  she  was  very  ill,  and  not  expected  to  recover. 
That  sister  was  my  angelic  mother.  I  could  not  learn  to 
what  city  they  had  gone,  and  therefore  should  despair  of 
finding  her.  Oh,  my  dear  mother !"  he  exclaimed  with  great 
emotion,  rising  from  his  seat,  "  what  would  I  not  give  for 
one  forgiving  word  from  your  lips  ?  But  a  single  solacing 
recourse  is  left  me  in  one  short  year  I  leave  this  island, 


28  A  SUDDEN  SURPRISE. 

and  return  to  the  scenes  of  my  boyhood  days  and  the 
graves  of  those  my  heart  still  calls  its  own." 

Edgarton  was  about  to  reply,  when  a  gentle  splash  on  the 
water  close  by  them  attracted  their  attention ;  and  looking 
up,  they  beheld  a  tiny  bark  canoe  gliding  toward  the  shore, 
in  the  centre  of  which,  like  a  beautiful  naiad  fresh  from  her 
wild-wood  home  stood  the  sylph-like  form  of  the  bewitching 
Indian  maid,  "  the  wild-rose  of  Mackinaw."  In  her  hand 
she  held  a  tiny  oar,  from  which  the  glittering  drops  fell  in 
chasing  succession  back  into  the  scarcely  rippled  water, 
while  her  fairy  bark  seemed  to  follow  as  under  mesmeric 
influence  the  direction  of  her  dark,  enchanting  eyes  which 
seemed  resting  as  if  spellbound  upon  the  craggy  rocks  just 
behind  where  they  were  sitting. 

"Am  I  awake?"  Edgarton  whispered,  in  a  low  under- 
tone, rubbing  his  eyes.  But  the  question  remained  un- 
answered, for  the  beautiful  girl,  springing  from  her  boat, 
Btood  before  them,  blushing  with  unfeigned  surprise. 

"  I  did  not  see  you,"  she  said,  with  embarrassment.  "  I 
came  here  to  gather  those  flowers  upon  the  rocks  yonder ;" 
and  she  was  about  darting  away,  when  Edgarton  exclaimed, 
"  Stop  a  moment,  fairy !  You  certainly  do  not  think  of 
risking  your  life  to  procure  those  stunted  wild-flowers,  not 
half  so  beautiful  as  yourself?  But  if  you  must  have  them, 
allow  me  to  gather  them  for  you." 

A  low,  merry  laugh  was  the  only  reply  he  received,  and 
away  she  bounded,  graceful  and  fleet  as  a  startled  fawn, 
skipping  from  one  projecting  rock  to  another,  higher  and 
still  higher,  hanging  one  moment  apparently  suspended 
from  some  slender  twig,  then  on,  until,  reaching  the  lofty 
eminence,  she  exultingly  held  out  to  the  breathless  specta- 
tors her  coveted  treasures.  In  a  moment  more  she  stood 
beside  them. 

"The  white  man's  foot  is  too  heavy,"  she  said,  with  a 
merry  twinkle  in  her  laughing  eyes,  "  to  gather  these  pretty 
flowers,  which  always  grow  high  up  in  the  sunshine."  . 


A  SUDDEN  SURPRISE.  29 

"What  do  you  propose  doing  with  them?"  asked  Ed- 
garton,  looking  intently  into  her  bright  face.  "  You  surely 
ought  to  divide  them  with  me  for  wishing  to  serve  you." 

"  I  gather  them  for  my  teacher,"  she  replied,  modestly ; 
"  she  is  so  very  fond  of  them." 

"  But  I  am  fond  of  them  too.  Will  you  not  give  me  that 
little  half-blown  violet  ?  See,  those  ugly  thorns  are  spoiling 
it,"  he  said,  taking  it  from  her  hand. 

"  Yes.  You  may  keep  it,  if  you  like ;"  and  before  he  had 
time  to  reply,  she  had  leaped  into  her  light  canoe  and  was 
rapidly  gliding  away. 

"  She  is  certainly  the  most  beautiful  creature  I  ever  be- 
held," he  said,  after  she  had  vanished.  "Her  face  and 
form  are  perfect,  and  all  her  movements  most  bewitchingly 
graceful." 

"Yes,"  said  Herbert,  "she  is  indeed  Nature's  loveliest 
child.  May  God  preserve  her  from  the  contamination  of 
the  destroying  fiend." 

"Amen!"   ejaculated   Edgarton;   and   the  two  walked 
slowly  away. 
I* 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  PAST  AND  THE  PRESENT. 

MANY  weeks  had  passed,  and  summer  had  come  and 
decked  the  little  island  with  more  than  its  wonted 
loveliness.  Flowers  with  variegated  hues  peeped  out  from 
among  their  bright  green  leaves  all  along  the  rugged  banks, 
or  looked  down  from  each  steep  declivity  with  the  most 
bewitching  gravity.  The  stately  trees,  and  even  the  crooked 
and  closely  intertwining  branches  of  the  irritating  under- 
wood, were  clad  in  a  robe  of  seemingly  more  than  earthly 
beauty. 

Oh  how  I  love  the  summer !  Even  now  as  I  write  my 
soul  seems  lifted  above  the  chilling  vesture  of  snow  and  ice 
that  nature  has  so  closely  wrapped  about  her,  and  in  dreamy 
stillness  do  I  listen  to  her  myriad  voices,  speaking  to  us 
through  the  singing  birds,  the  noisy,  babbling  brooks  and  the 
rustling  of  the  sensitive  leaves,  among  which  the  wanton 
winds  for  a  moment  disport  themselves,  then  dance  away 
to  join  the  elfin  troop,  dallying  with  the  meek-eyed  flowers 
How  the  sweeping  of  their  perfumed  pinions,  fanning  tc 
blissful  life  the  sweetest  memories  which  we  will  not  let 
die,  carries  us  back  to  many  a  bright  and  sunny  spot  along 
life's  dusty  road  where  no  cloud  casts  its  shadow  upon  us ! 
But  the  music  ceases.  The  secret  chambers  of  communion 
with  the  joyous  past  are  closed,  and  the  thick  curtain  of  a 
stern  reality  shuts  out  again  reveling  sunbeams  and  sweet 
sounds.  For  clouds  will  move  across  the  summer  sky,  and 
weird-like  winds  move  around  the  most  cherished  resting- 
places  of  our  thoughts. 

Somewhat  thus  mused  Edgarton  as  he  strolled  in  one  of 

M 


THE  PAST  AND   THE  PRESENT.  31 

his  /estless  moods  along  the  path  which  many  feet  had 
worn  close  to  the  water's  edge,  and  for  a  while  again  he  was 
walking  through  the  magnificent  grounds  that  surrounded 
his  childhood's  home.  How  well  he  remembered  the  little 
summer-house  halfway  down  the  garden  walk  in  .which  at 
gunset  he  had  so  often  sat  and  wondered — oh  how  he  had 
wondered ! — about  that  far-off  land  of  which  his  father  had 
talked  so  much,  that  western  land,  the  home  of  the  op- 
pressed, the  asylum  for  the  weak  and  outcast  of  all  nations ! 
How  his  young  heart  would  throb  with  wild  excitement, 
and  his  cheeks  glow  with  a  deeper  crimson  as  he  would  gaze 
into  his  mother's  troubled  face  and  exclaim,  with  childish 
enthusiasm, "  When  I  am  a  man,  I  shall  visit  America;  my 
feet  shall  stand  upon  that  rock  on  which  the  exiles  once 
stood ;  thence  will  I  wander  over  the  New  World's  battle-fields 
and  study  the  records  of  their  illustrious  dead,  whose  noble 
deeds  and  self-sacrificing  lives  helped  to  rear  a  temple 
naught  beside 

'  Can  vie  in  beauty  with — a  structure  grand, 

A  watch-tower  o'er  that  dearly-purchased  land ; ' 

and  from  its  most  lofty  summits  shall  these  eyes  look  forth 
over  that  boasted  model  world,  the  'cradle  of  American 
Liberty.'  Then  came  in  thought  that  mother's  parting 
words,  '  Let  not  your  stay  be  long,  my  son ;  but  wherever 
you  wander  and  whatever  associations  you  may  form, 
remember  that  the  purest  English  blood  flows  in  your  veins, 
and  that  the  name  of  Edgarton  has  never  been  lowered  from 
that  height  upon  which  the  worth  and  prowess  of  your  noble 
ancestors  placed  it.  I  expect  much  of  you  as  the  only  heir 
of  your  father's  name  and  his  high  position  among  the  nobles 
of  his  native  land.  Be  true  to  his  memory,  and  do  not  for- 
get that  it  was  one  of  his  last  expressed  wishes  concerning 
you  that  the  fortunes  and  families  of  Pemberton  Castle  and 
Edgarton  Hall  should  be  united  in  yourself  and  the  Lady 
Eveline.  She  has  always  been  taught  to  look  upon  you  as 


32  THE  PAST  AND  THE  PRESENT. 

her  future  husband,  and  is  much  grieved  at  your  anticipated 
absence.  Remember,  then,  that  two  hearts  wait  anxiously 
and  impatiently  for  your  return." 

"  Pshaw  I"  and  Edgarton  bit  his  lips  with  evident  vexa- 
tion. Just  then  a  shadow  fell  upon  his  path. 

"  What  were  you  thinking  of?"  said  a  sweet,  ringing  voice 
beside  him ;  "  you  looked  so  angry  about  the  mouth  that  I 
dared  not  meet  you,  so  I  stood  still  and  waited  for  you." 

"  I  am  not  looking  angry  now,  am  I,  fairy  ?" 

"  No,  not  now,  but  you  were." 

"  Well,  sit  down  here  with  me  a  few  moments,  and  I  will 
ask  you  about  your  sick  mother." 

"  She  is  no  better,"  answered  the  girl,  sorrowfully ;  "  and 
what  is  worse,  she  will  not  let  me  talk  to  her  of  the 
'white  man's  God,'  as  she  calls  him,  and  tells  me  that  I 
am  not  her  child,  but  that  I  belong  to  the  hated  palefaces. 
Oh,  she  talks  so  strangely !  it  makes  me  shudder  when  I 
hear  her ;"  and  she  turned  her  head  and  wept  freely. 

"Would  to  God  her  wild  ravings  were  truth!"  mentally 
ejaculated  Edgarton  as  he  gently  raised  the  drooping  head 
and  asked,  "  Will  they  take  her  to  the  mission  house?" 

"  Yes,  to-morrow." 

"  Then  do  not  weep ;  everything  will  be  done  for  her  that 
mortals  can  do,  and  God  will  not  fail  to  reward  you  for  the 
efforts  you  have  made  in  her  behalf." 

Tears  that  gush  up  from  the  young  heart  are  soon  dried 
and  leave  no  trace  behind,  as  the  noonday  sun  drinks  the 
pearly  raindrops  that  fall  from  the  passing  summer  cloud. 
When  Edgarton  asked  for  the  pretty  flowers  she  held  in  her 
hand,  she  replied,  "  You  are  always  begging  for  my  flowers, 
when  you  know  I  gather  them  for  my  dear  teacher ;  she  loves 
them  more  than  you  do.  Besides,"  she  said,  with  an  arch 
smile,  "  you  can  gather  them  for  yourself." 

"  Only  one,  just  one,  to  place  with  this  lovely  crushed 
violet  you  gave  me  many  weeks  ago.  Do  you  remember 
it?" 


THE  PAST  AND   THE  PRESENT.  33 

A  look  of  surprise  passed  over  the  face  before  him  as  her 
large  dark  eyes  looked  earnestly  into  his. 

"  Let  me  see,"  she  said,  after  a  moment's  pause :  "  I  have 
only  seven  little  half-blown  roses,  and  you  want  one  of  them. 
Very  well,  I  will  give  you  this  just  to  make  the  number  au 
even  one ;"  and  she  passed  him  a  tiny  bud. 

"  Thank  you,  fairy;  your  selection  could  not  have  pleased 
me  better." 

Again  she  looked  surprised.  "  It  is  not  so  pretty  as  either 
of  the  others,"  she  replied,  blushing  deeply.  "  I  will  exchange 
with  you  if  you  wish  it" 

"  Not  for  all  the  rest  would  I  give  this  little  bud  in  my 
possession.  It  has  a  language,  fairy,  which  you  will  some 
day  know.  I  will  not  tell  you  now ;  but  if  you  like  to  please 
me,  when  I  ask  you  for  flowers  give  me  another  rosebud." 

"  But  I  must  go,"  she  exclaimed,  suddenly  rising  to  her 
feet ;  "  my  dear  teacher  would  not  take  my  little  gift  if  she 
knew  I  had  been  sitting  here  talking  with  you.  Oh,  I  do 
wrong  to  disobey  her ;  but  somehow  you  do  not  seenj 
wicked,  and  I  think,  if  she  knew  you  as  well  as  I  do,  she 
would  think  so  too." 

Edgarton  took  her  hand  as  she  passed  him,  and  detained 
her  for  a  moment. 

"  No,  fairy,  there  is  no  wickedness  in  my  heart  toward 
you — nothing  but  good.  But  do  not  refuse  to  talk  with  me, 
when  we  meet  casually,  as  on  this  occasion,  or  I  will  leave 
the  island  and  go  to  my  distant  home." 

Was  this  a  casual  meeting  ?  For  more  than  three  weeks 
Edgarton  had  met  the  little  fairy,  as  he  chose  to  call  her, 
almost  daily  somewhere  along  this  quiet  path,  as  she  was 
slowly  returning  from  a  visit  to  her  sick  mother,  while  the 
twilight  shadows  were  settling  down  upon  the  waters  and 
clustering  darkly  in  the  green  wood.  She  was  rarely  alone 
nt  this  silent  hour ;  but  he  never  failed  to  catch  at  least  one 
truant  glance  from  her  beautiful  eyes,  which  served  to  gild 
his  passing  hours  with  the  halo  of  peaceful  joy. 


34  THE  PASI  AND   THE  PRESENT. 

But  to-morrow  the  sick  "Wohema"was  to  be  removed 
from  her  wigwam  to  a  room  in  the  mission  house,  and 
Edgarton  walked  back  to  the  fort  in  a  very  uncomfortable 
state  of  mind.  When  should  he  meet  her  again  ?  Did  he 
stop  to  inquire  why  this  beautiful  girl  had  become  so  neces- 
sary to  his  present  enjoyment?  Ah  no!  He  would  have 
blushed  with  shame  had  his  truly  English  heart  whispered 
the  word  "  love"  in  connection  with  this  remarkable  child  of 
a  savage  and  almost  extinct  people.  Had  the  question  ever 
presented  itself,  he  would  have  silenced  its  unpleasant  sug- 
gestions by  the  soothing  illusion  it  could  be  only  Mie  pleas 
ing  fascination  which  a  lonely  wanderer  upon  a  dreary 
sandy  waste  might  be  expected  to  enjoy,  when  suddenly 
before  his  strained  vision  a  green  oasis  appears,  decked  with 
one  solitary  flower,  blooming  in  the  most  luxuriant  beauty 


CHAPTER  VI. 
THE  TRAGIC  SCENE. 

HARK!  A  musket-shot  at  this  hour!"  Then  the 
mingling  of  confused  voices  :  "  What  can  it  mean  ?" 

And  Edgarton  hurried  from  his  room,  down  the  narrow 
passage  to  the  open  court,  thence  across  to  a  small  enclosure, 
or  outer  room,  where  he  knew  that  many  of  the  soldiers  and 
under  officers  were  at  this  time  engaged  in  cleaning  and  re- 
loading their  muskets,  preparatory  to  the  general  review, 
which  was  to  take  place  that  afternoon.  As  he  approached, 
an  oppressed  stillness  seemed  to  be  settling  down  upon  the 
place,  and  resting,  with  heavy  weight,  upon  his  heart.  Why 
did  his  calm  face  assume  a  pallid  hue,  and  his  hand  tremble 
with  nervous  emotion  as  he  reached  it  forth  to  open  the 
door  ?  An  overpowering  dread  of  some  dire  calamity  had 
taken  possession  of  him.  He  could  not  shake  it  off.  He 
started  back  in  impulsive  trepidation,  but  the  sound  of 
hurrying  footsteps  again  aroused  him ;  and  checking  hia 
agitation  with  a  determined  effort,  he  entered  the  apartment. 

What  a  scene  was  before  him  !  Close  by  the  door,  where 
he  was  standing,  was  a  group  of  excited  faces,  bending  over 
the  lifeless  form  of  a  human  being,  lying  upon  the  ground 
in  their  midst.  Edgarton  did  not  distinguish  the  face  of 
the  murdered  man,  as,  raising  his  eyes,  they  rested  upon 
the  statue-like  form  of  Edward  Herbert  leaning  composedly 
upon  his  discharged  musket.  This  was  enough.  The  entire 
tragedy  was  at  once  unraveled,  like  a  dark  picture,  before 
him. 

"  Where,  now,  is  the  gentle  influence  of  that  angel  sister's 
Inve  ?  Where  the  soothing  power  of  a  Christian  mother's 

8ft 


36  THE  TRAQIG  SCENE. 

prayers?  Had  they  for  many  lonely  years  been  quietly 
thrown*  about  him,  drawing  him  aside  from  many  a  lurking 
snare,  and  with  their  magic  power  snapping  asunder  the 
galling  chains  of  early  indiscretions  ?  Would  that  angel 
form  now  wrap  the  silvery  sheen  of  her  ethereal  love  about 
her  and  leave  him  for  ever  ?"  Edgarton  stood  transfixed  to 
the  spot,  overpowered  by  such  reflections,  and  his  gaze 
riveted  upon  the  pallid,  expressionless  face  of  the  erect 
etatue  before  him. 

The  eyes  of  Herbert  were  slowly  raised  toward  hia  friend, 
and  for  a  brief  moment  soul  communed  with  soul,  mingling 
together  the  heart's  true  sympathy  and  love,  creating  that 
strong  bond  of  affection  which  is  indissoluble  by  the  opin- 
ions of  the  world  around,  or  the  cold  hand  of  prejudice. 
Edgarton  could  perceive  no  signs  of  remorse  or  regret  in 
the  unflinching  gaze  of  those  dark  orbs  which  searched  the 
depths  of  his  own  troubled  heart ;  they  only  put  forth  a 
silent  petition  to  him  for  a  continuation  of  that  pity  which 
had  so  often  been  proffered  him. 

"This  is  a  very  sad  affair,"  said  Col.  Ray,  approaching 
Edgarton — "  very  sad,  and  one,  too,  that  I  can't  at  all  un- 
derstand. Herbert  has  so  long  been  in  our  regiment,  and 
who,  after  knowing  him  so  intimately,  could  believe  that 
such  a  spirit  of  evil  could  have  dwelt  beneath  that  mild, 
engaging  exterior  ?" 

"Col.  Ray,"  said  Edgarton,  warmly,  "far  be  it  from  me 
to  uphold  the  perpetration  of  a  broken  law,  but  in  my 
opinion  circumstances  often  serve  to  palliate  offences  equal 
in  magnitude  to  the  present.  A  fiend  without  may,  by  his 
own  machinations  and  cruel  power,  so  arouse  the  slum- 
bering demon  which  his  ire  has  created  and  implanted 
in  the  bosom  of  another  that  it  will  turn  again  and  rend 
him." 

"  It  may  be  so,"  replied  the  colonel,  "  but  the  law  admits 
of  no  such  palliation." 

Herbert  was  now  slowly  approaching,  walking  arm  in 


THE  TRAGIC  SCENE.  37 

arm  with  a  couple  of  guards,  and  as  he  drew  near,  the  eyes 
of  the  friends  again  met.  Edgarton  could-  not  repress  the 
inclination  which  impelled  him  to  extend  his  hand  to  the 
criminal.  The  latter  convulsively  grasped  it,  and  a  fervent 
"  God  bless  you !"  fell  on  his  ear  as  the  three  passed  out, 

A  few  moments'  silence  ensued,  when  Edgarton  inquired. 

M  What  are  your  orders  concerning  the  unfortunate  you;;-. 
man  ?" 

"  That  he  be  imprisoned  here,  under  strong  guard,  until 
we  can  deliver  him  to  the  territorial  authorities." 

What  a  deep  gloom  now  pervaded  the  fort,  as  if  the 
dusky  wings  of  death  were  overspreading  it,  casting  chill, 
damp  shadows  upon  every  face !  yet  not  one  of  them  all 
endured  such  anguish,  such  a  keen  sorrow  and  sympathy 
for  an  erring  brother,  as  did  Edgarton  when  he  had  re- 
turned to  his  own  room  and  with  tearful  eyes  recalled  in 
detail  the  sad  story  he  had  heard  from  Herbert's  lips  a  few 
short  months  before,  and  remembered  the  painful  agony  he 
had  witnessed  as  the  healing  wound  was  reopened,  and  day 
by  day  was  lacerated  afresh  by  the  same  cruel  hand  which 
had  inflicted  it,  until  the  heart  could  bear  no  longer,  and 
the  suppressed  passions  burst  their  controlling  fetters,  and 
the  tortured  one  stood  forth  before  the  world,  a  murderer. 
No,  no ;  he  checked  the  thought  the  instant  it  was  enter- 
tained. The  purple  stain  of  a  man's  blood  was  indeed 
upon  the  hands  of  Herbert,  but  the  foul  mark  could  not 
be  stamped  upon  that  ingenuous  heart. 

A  long  time  he  mused,  until,  no  longer  able  to  bear  the 
agony  of  his  torturing  thoughts,  he  hastened  into  the 
open  air  to  seek  composure  from  pensive  communion  with 
nature.  All  day  long  did  he  strive  to  summon  resolution 
to  visit  his  friend. 

"  What  shall  I  say  to  him,  or  how  offer  consolation  to 
a  heart  so  troubled  as  his?"  Questions  such  as  these  con- 
stantly pressed  themselves  upoix  him.  "  Yet  to-morrow — 
perhaps  this  very  night — he  will  be  hurried  away,  and 

4 


38  THE  TRAGIC  SCENE. 

confined  in  a  gloomy  prison-cell.  What  days  and  weeks 
of  wretched  loneliness  await  him !  What  an  age  of  agony 
and  suspense  will  be  concentrated  in  a  few  short  weeks ! 
Yes,"  he  resolved  at  length,  "  I  must  see  him,  and  pledge 
him  anew  my  unfaltering  friendship  and  aid,  in  this  his 
hour  of  trial." 

He  had  reached  the  outer  door  and  was  mechanically 
entering,  when  a  gentle  hand  clasped  his  own;  and  looking 
up,  he  beheld  Father  Hawes,  the  mission  pastor,  standing 
before  him.  Sorrow  was  written  upon  his  usually  placid 
face,  and  the  hand's  close  pressure  told  that  lore  and 
sympathy  were  wrestling  together  in  his  Christian  heart, 
ready  to  come  forth  as  ministering  angels,  bearing  the  oil 
of  peace  and  the  balm  of  consolation. 

"  You  are  on  your  way  to  visit  the  unhappy  Herbert  ?" 
laid  Edgarton,  inquiringly. 

"lam." 

"  You  will  be  very  gentle  to  my  dear  friend  ?  His  crime 
is  indeed  great,  but  who  of  us  all  can  say  he  should  not 
have  fallen  beneath  such  a  weight  of  provocation  ?" 

"  Let  us  thank  God,"  said  the  good  man,  fervently,  "  that 
he  has  not  subjected  us  to  such  heavy  trial." 

That  night  the  two  friends  sat  long  together,  and  con- 
versed for  the  last  time  amid  the  scenes  of  so  many  pleas- 
ant associations.  Herbert  was  still  very  pale,  but  strangely 
caJm  and  almost  cheerful. 

"This  will  be  the  termination  of  my  crooked  path,"  he 
remarked,  as  they  were  about  to  part  "  Even  now  I  be- 
nold  the  end,  enveloped  as  it  is  in  the  dense  darkness  of 
foreboding  gloom;"  and  for  the  first  time  his  lips  quiveml 
with  emotion.  "  Yes,  it  is  dreadful.  No  doubt  everybody 
is  shocked  at  my  inhumanity,  but  none  can  be  more  so 
than  myself.  Edgarton,  my  dear,  my  only,  friend,  shall  I 
tell  you  that  though  I  can  behold  nothing  but  ignominy 
and  death  before  me,  yet  aot  one  ray  of  repentance  for  my 
rash  act  comes  to  lift  the  sombre  curtain  which  foi  ever  ex- 


THE  TRAGIC  SCENE.  39 

eludes  hope  from  my  soul?    No,  I  cannot!    I  never  can 
repent !" 

"  Herbert,  do  not  speak  so  sadly ;  I  can  see  a  bright  star 
whose  cheerful  light  is  even  now  penetrating  that  dark 
cloud.  There  must  be  joys  yet  in  store  for  you." 

Then  came  the  mournful  "  good-night,"  and  Herbert  was 
once  more  alone.  Early  the  next  morning  he  was  conducted 
to  a  boat  that  had  reached  the  island  about  daybreak,  am 
borne  rapidly  away. 


CHAPTER  VII. 
THE  DISCLOSURE. 

FOR  nearly  a  week  Edgarton  confined  himself  to  the 
fort,  endeavoring  to  dissipate  his  thoughts  by  the  per- 
formance of  as  many  duties  as  his  ingenuity  could  devise. 

"  Strange  things  happen  in  this  life,  that's  a  fact,"  said  Joe 
Price  to  his  companion  as  they  stood  together  one  afternoon 
polishing  the  barrels  of  their  muskets.  "  I  remember  that 
our  minister  used  to  say  so  when  I  was  a  little  boy  and  sat 
close  to  mother  in  that  high-backed  old  pew,  amusing  my- 
self meanwhile  with  pilfering  fennel  and  caraway  seed  from 
her  capacious  pocket.  But  when  the  parson  added,  with 
some  solemn  admonition,  'We  know  not  what  a  day  may 
bring  forth,'  I  used  to  make  faces  at  him  behind  my  Sunday 
hat.  Yet  after  all  he  knew  more  than  I  gave  him  credit  for. 
Who  would  have  supposed  one  week  ago  that  Smith  and 
Herbert  would  be  where  they  are  to-day  ?  Poor  Ned !  I 
wish  he  were  back.  It  has  been  as  dull  and  gloomy  as  a 
funeral  ever  since  they  carried  him  off.  As  for  that  rascally 
Smith,  I  don't  know.  Some  fellows,  though,  get  no  more 
than  they  deserve." 

"What  do  you  know  about  it,  you  stupid  Yankee?" 
Interrogated  his  companion,  tartly.  "  You  are  always  sticking 
your  guesses  and  beliefs  into  everybody's  business,  about 
which  you  know  nothing.  For  my  part,  I  believe  Smith 
was  a  fine  fellow,  and  no  more  deserving  death  than  that 
simpering  Herbert." 

"  Oh,  ho !  who  has  been  sticking  in  a  belief  now,  when 
he  knew  nothing  about  the  matter?  I  tell  you,  my  friend, 
Yankee  eyes,  as  you  call  them,  can  see  a  devil  as  far  off  as 
anybody,  and  I  saw  the  hoof  of  a  cloven  foot  in  the  corner 

40 


THE  DISCLOSURE.  41 

of  that  Smith's  optic  before  he  had  been  here  a  week; 
and  then,  when  he  would  come  up  to  Herbert  with  the 
Satan  all  snugly  covered  up  with  that  smile  of  his,  and 
bow  so  graciously,  as  much  as  to  say,  '  Your  servant,  sir,' 
and  then  whisper  something  which  would  take  all  the 
color  out  of  Herbert's  face,  I  wondered  he  did  not  striie 
him,  and  only  wished  he  had  asked  me  to  do  it  for  him ; 
but  he  didn't,  and  only  once  did  I  hear  him  speak,  and  then 
so  plaintively,  while  his  dark  eyes  seemed  burning  up  Yi  ith 
an  inner  fire,  which  Smith's  words  must  have  kindled,  as 
he  exclaimed, '  For  my  sake,  for  your  own  sake,  don't  drive 
me  mad.'  But  our  general  says  he  must  swing  for  it,  just 
to  show  us,  I  suppose,  how  we  should  look  in  such  an  ele- 
vated position,  and  also  to  impress  the  mind  of  the  savage 
foe  with  the  beauties  of  our  civilization." 

"  'Pon  my  word,  Joe,  you  are  getting  eloquent." 

Edgarton,  not  caring  to  hear  more  of  the  conversation, 
was  turning  away,  when  a  note  was  placed  in  nis  hand  by  a 
goldier,  which  contained  a  request  from  the  mission  pastor 
lhat  he  would  explain  to  him  that  afternoon  as  much  of 
Herbert's  history  as  he  felt  inclined  to  communicate.  He 
gladly  availed  himself  of  the  opportunity,  and  when  evening 
was  coming  on  set  out  for  the  pastor's  rooms.  The  bright 
blue  sky  was  unclouded,  and  fading  purple  and  gold  still 
lingered  on  the  mountain  tops.  Before  him  lay  the  sleeping 
waters  of  the  lake,  and  for  the  first  time  for  many  months 
be  thought  with  regret  of  the  wide  ocean  that  was  rolling 
restlessly  between  him  and  his  home. 

"  Fool  that  I  am,"  he  murmured,  "  to  isolate  myself  thua 
from  home  and  friends  merely  to  gratify  a  boyish  whii  i 
and  satisfy  a  vain  ambition !  What  can  I  possibly  gain  here, 
in  this  little  spot  of  earth  which  nature  has  broken  off  iron: 
the  world  and  thrown  away  upon  the  waters  in  this  far-off 
corner  ?  Nothing." 

Arriving  at  the  mission  house,  he  was  ushered  into  the 
general  sitting-room,  where  the  two  gentlemen  were  seated 


42  THE  DISCLOSURE. 

in  conversation  with  their  wives.  All  rose  to  greet  hire  as 
he  entered,  and  it  was  not  until  they  were  reseated  that  he 
saw  the  beautiful  Indian  maid.  Flora,  as  she  was  called  hy 
her  mission  friends,  sitting  close  by  the  side  of  her  teachers, 
engaged  in  some  kind  of  needlework. 

"  Ah !  here  is  my  little  fairy,"  he  said,  stepping  forward 
and  taking  the  hand  of  the  blushing  girl  in  his  own.  "  1 
did  not  perceive  you  before." 

For  a  moment  their  eyes  met.  Had  the  little  dark-eyed 
girl  been  a  child  of  the  world,  nurtured  into  precociousness 
by  the  hot-bed  influence  of  society,  she  might  have  read 
much  in  those  calm,  quiet  eyes  that  were  gazing  so  intently 
down  into  the  depths  of  her  own. 

"  I  always  prophesy  some  good  to  myself,"  he  remarked 
to  the  gentlemen,  "  when  this  little  fairy  crosses  my  path 
during  my  daily  walk." 

"She  is  a  very  good  little  girl,"  remarked  the  teacher, 
quietly. 

A  few  commonplace  inquiries  ensued,  when  Mr.  Hawes 
Suggested  a  withdrawal  to  his  private  study. 

"  Not  unless  you  prefer  it,"  said  Edgarton.  "  There  are 
none  here  whom  I  would  wish  to  exclude  from  the  sympa- 
thy which  the  story  of  my  friend's  wrongs  cannot  fail  to 
excite." 

No  eye  was  free  from  tears  as  the  narrative  proceeded ; 
and  when  at  length  he  described  the  final  scene  and  re- 
hearsed the  farewell  words  of  the  prisoner,  "  I  cannot !  I 
never  can  repent,"  the  good  pastor  clasped  his  hands,  raised 
them  slowly,  as  if  in  fervent  supplication,  and  exclaimed, 
"God  forgive  me!  I  cannot  censure  him — no,  not  even 
blame  him.  The  kind-hearted  Father  knows  how  to  pity, 
how  to  forgive." 

\Ve  said  no  eye  was  undimmed  with  tears.  There  were 
none,  however,  in  the  dark,  brilliant  orbs  of  the  Indian  girl 
as  she  sat  looking  intently  into  the  face  of  her  "great 
teacher."  Her  work  lay  upon  her  lap,  her  hands  were 


THE  DISCLOSURE.  43 

tightly  clasped,  while  burning  indignation  was  expressed  in 
every  feature  of  her  beautiful  face. 

All  were  engaged  in  silent  communion  with  their  own 
thoughts,  when  an  inner  door  was  suddenly  thrown  open, 
and  Miss  McFarland,  an  assistant  teacher,  appeared,  pale 
with  excitement.  "  Oh,  come !"  she  said,  in  great  agitation  : 
"she  certainly  is  dying.  Come!" 

All  instantly  arose,  with  the  exception  of  Flora,  and  w  ere 
hastening  from  the  room,  when  Mr.  Ferry  stopped,  and  ex- 
tending his  hand  to  Edgarton,  said,  "  Perhaps  you  would 
not  like  to  await  our  return.  Poor  old  Wohema  is  dying, 
and  you  must  excuse  our  abrupt  departure."  A  gentle 
pressure  of  the  hand,  a  fervent  "  good-night,"  and  he  left 
the  room. 

"  Why  do  you  not  go  ?"  inquired  Edgarton  as  he  tenderly 
raised  the  drooping  head  of  the  trembling  girl,  that  was 
lying  apon  the  vacant  chair  beside  hrr. 

"  Oh,  I  cannot  see  her  die,"  she  exclaimed,  in  a  paroxysm 
of  tears — "  I  cannot  see  her  die ;  and  then  she  does  not  love 
me,  and  talks  so  wickedly  when  she  sees  me  that  they  tell 
me  I  must  keep  out  of  her  sight,  because  it  excites  her  so 
much ;"  and  again  the  head  drooped  low,  and  her  whole 
frame  shook  with  emotion. 

"  Your  mother  not  love  you  ?"  softly  whispered  Edgarton, 
his  hand  resting  upon  the  jetty  curls.  "  Impossible !  Beau- 
tiful, artless  child,  my  heart  tells  me  how  easily  it  could 
love  one  like  you,  if  it  were  possible  to  find  her  in  another 
sphere  of  existence."  He  raised  again  the  drooping  head 
from  its  resting-place,  looked  for  a  moment  into  the  dark, 
swimming  eyes,  then  rose,  bidding  her  good-night,  and  left 
the  house. 

Nearly  an  hour  afterward  the  pastor's  wife  quietly  entered 
the  room  where  the  weeping  girl  was  lying,  and  taking  one 
of  her  cold  hands,  said,  gently,  "  All  is  over,  my  child — the 
frantic  voice  is  hushed,  the  weary  body  is  at  rest  I  Would 
you  like  to  see  her  before  our  evening  devotion  ?" 


44  THE  DISCLOSURE. 

"Oh  no,  not  to-night,"  she  answered,  shudderingly — 
"not  to-night." 

It  was  a  full,  round,  silvery  moon  that  shed  its  peaceful 
Jight  down  upon  the  tranquil  waters,  hushing  the  great 
•world  to  sleep  as  a  watchful  mother  soothes  her  restless 
child.  Flora  felt  its  tranquilizing  influence,  as  she  knelt 
by  the  open  window  and  looked  up  into  the  shining  orb 
that  beamed  from  its  dizzy  heights  upon  her.  She  remem- 
bered that  when  she  was  a  little  child,  she  thought  the  moon 
was  the  face  of  the  "  Great  Spirit,"  that  was  often  turned 
away  because  of  the  wickedness  of  her  people,  but  unwilling 
to  leave  them  in  darkness,  would  turn  again  and  look  upon 
them.  Then,  when  she  was  sad,  she  looked  for  pity  into  its 
large  bright  face ;  and  she  never  looked  in  vain. 

To-nigh*  ^he  fancies  of  early  childhood  returned  to  her, 
and  she  sought  consolation  in  its  quiet  beams,  repeating, 
with  clasped  hands,  the  prayer  of  former  days:  "Great 
Spirit,  take  care  of  the  poor  little  Indian  girl  1" 


CHAPTER  VIII. 
CONDEMNED   TO  DIE. 

A  UTUMN  came  at  last,  with  her  crimson  garments  redo- 
-£ A.  lent  with  the  breath  of  dying  flowers,  while  the  leafless 
trees  chanted  a  solemn  dirge  over  the  grave  of  departed  sum- 
mer. One  by  one  the  leaves  had  fallen  silently  upon  the 
earth,  spreading  over  her  faded  form  a  variegated  carpet  for 
the  footsteps  of  approaching  winter. 

Thus  die  our  joys  away,  and  over  their  faded  forms  we 
throw  an  amaranthine  shroud  of  beauty,  on  which  we  rear 
new  hopes  and  new  aspirations.  As  we  turn  to  look  again 
the  whole  mass  floats  away  down  the  ever-flowing  stream 
of  time,  and  we  stand  upon  its  desolate  banks  wrapped  about 
with  the  mantle  of  discontent,  dreading  the  battle  with  th« 
rough,  cold  winds  of  a  stormy  winter.  And  yet  the  eai 
rightly  attuned  hears  an  inspiring  voice  wafted  from  the 
vanishing  wreck :  "  He  shall  be  like  a  tree  planted  by  the 
river  of  waters." 

Herbert  listened,  as  he  sat  in  his  lonely  cell,  seeing  the 
dark,  turbid  waters  swallow  up  the  last  fragment  of  his 
shattered  hopes,  yet  he  heard  not  that  cheering  voice.  The 
clamor  of  a  broken  law  and  the  cries  of  insatiate  justice 
alone  filled  his  ear. 

The  trial,  which  had  been  so  impatiently  looked  forward 
to  by  so  many  anxious  hearts,  had  taken  place,  and  Herbert 
was  condemned  to  die.  He  stood  by  the  small  grated  win- 
dow of  his  narrow  cell,  striving  to  catch  a  single  glimpse  of 
the  setting  sun,  whose  faintly  glimmering  rays  yet  lingered 
upon  the  bars. 

"  Ah  1"  he  murmured,  "  how  soon  the  sun  of  my  existence 

41 


46  CONDEMNED  TO  DIE. 

will  set  in  eternal  night !  Dark  and  cloudy  has  been  the 
day,  but  a  deeper  than  midnight  gloom  awaits  me.  Flowers 
of  my  spring-time  joys,  where  are  you  ?  Withered — gone  I 
yet  not  all !  Nettie,  my  dove-eyed  Nettie,  lives ;  but  she 
shall  never  know  the  fate  of  him  she  once  so  fully  trusted. 
Perhaps  even  now  she  has  forgotten  her  unworthy  lover. 
If  so,  no  words  of  mine  shall  awake  slumbering  memories. 
I  will  die  unknown,  as  for  six  years  I  have  lived,  and  the 
public  may  gloat  over  the  name  of  Edward  Herbert." 

The  massive  key  grated  harshly  in  the  rusted  lock,  the 
bolt  slid  back,  and  Herbert,  wiping  a  tear  from  his  pale 
cheek,  turned  to  welcome  the  island  missionary.  Unwaver- 
ing had  been  the  attentions  of  this  kind  friend,  and  words 
of  peace  and  consolation  had  fallen  refreshingly  from  his 
lips  as  dew-drops  upon  a  withered  flower. 

"  You  are  late  to-night,"  Herbert  said,  clasping  the  ex- 
tended hand. 

"  Yes,  but  not  less  welcome,  am  I  ?" 

"  Always  welcome  to  the  lone  prisoner,"  he  answered  as 
they  seated  themselves  on  the  rude,  hard  couch.  "  My  dear 
friend,  do  not  talk  to  me  to-night  of  repentance.  Anything 
but  that.  Could  you  see  as  I  do  the  high,  impassable  wall 
which  lies  between  me  and  this  peaceful  requisite  for  salva- 
tion, you  would  feel  as  I  do  how  impossible  it  is  for  me  to 
scale  it." 

From  the  heart  of  the  good  man  one  supplicating  plea 
ascended  to  the  throne  of  mercy,  and  the  request  of  the 
condemned  was  heeded.  Often  had  he  led  the  bowed  form 
close  to  that  fountain  whose  waters  alone  could  heal  the 
malady  of  his  soul,  but  as  often  he  turned  away,  murmur- 
ing, "  Not  for  me,  not  for  me." 

Thus  the  winter  passed  away.  Spring  came,  ana  Herbert 
was  sent  back  to  the  island  to  undergo  a  new  trial  and 
await  the  decision.  There,  where  his  great  crime  was  com- 
mitted, he  must  probably  pay  with  his  life  the  forfeit  de- 
manded. Sorrowing  hearts  awaited  him,  but  kind  words 


CONDEMNED  TO  DIE.  47 

and  cheerful  smiles  greeted  him  as  once  again  he  entered 
the  little  harbor,  and  accompanied  by  the  clanking  of  heavy 
fetters  walked  up  the  well-remembered  path  to  the  fort. 

It  was  a  peaceful  day,  and  the  soft  southerly  wind  came 
up  from  the  waters  of  the  broad  lake  with  cooling  languor, 
calming  the  hot,  troubled  brow  and  giving  new  life  and 
strength  to  feeble,  reanimating  nature.  Herbert  saw  and 
felt  it  all — the  tranquil  azure  sky,  the  reflecting  blue  waters 
that  surrounded  him,  the  bright  green  mantle  quietly 
spreading  itself  over  the  little  island,  then  the  bland  air  that 
toyed  so  lovingly  with  his  matted  locks,  lifting  them  sooth- 
ingly from  his  temples — such  air  as  might  have  been  wafted 
from  orange  groves  in  distant  climes,  restless,  ever  restless, 
as  his  own  troubled  spirit. 

Then  his  thoughts  went  wandering  back  to  other  days, 
and  fairy  forms  flitted  past  him.  Suddenly  he  stopped. 
His  downcast  eyes  espied  a  lonely  violet  struggling  in  bloom 
hard  by  his  path,  and  in  a  low  voice  he  requested  that  it 
should  be  given  to  him.  Edgarton  placed  it  in  his  hand. 
A  slight  flush  overspread  his  wan  features  as  he  felt  the 
humble  flower  in  his  burning  palm.  He  pressed  it  pas- 
sionately to  his  lips.  A  tear  trembled  one  moment  upon 
his  long  dark  lashes,  then  dropped  heavily  upon  the  tiny, 
tender  flower. 

Who  shall  say  that  flowers  are  not  connecting  links  in 
the  golden  chain  that  still  draws  the  clay-wrapped  soul, 
wandering  up  and  down  over  the  dreary  waste  of  life,  to 
those  brighter,  holier  joys  whence  it  sprang  ?  Precious  gifts  1 
I  never  hold  in  my  hand  a  half-blown  rose,  and  look  down 
into  its  unfolding  leaves,  but  I  seem  to  see  angelic  eyes 
beaming  their  holy  light  upon  me.  Ah,  how  dreary,  how 
cold  and  uninviting,  this  material  world  would  be  without 
this  largess  of  a  Father's  tender  love ! 


CHAPTER  IX. 
NOT  YET. 

"17^  DGARTON  was  sitting  in  a  shady  nook  upon  the  rugged, 
JL^  mossy  cliff  that  overhung  the  waters  of  the  harbor,  his 
head  leaning  listlessly  upon  his  hand  and  his  whole  manner 
betokening  the  deepest  dejection.  A  dainty  foot  rustled  the 
dry  leaves  near  him,  and  a  little  brown  hand  was  laid  caress- 
ingly upon  his  shoulder. 

"  Ah,  my  fairy !"  he  said,  without  raising  his  eyes. 

"  How  did  you  know  it  was  I  ?"  she  asked,  laughingly. 
"  You  did  not  see  me." 

"  But  I  felt  you.  Don't  you  think  I  know  the  touch  of 
this  little  hand  ?  But  come,  sit  down  here  by  me.  I  am 
sad  and  lonely ;  perhaps  you  can  cheer  me." 

"I  saw  the  cloud  upon  your  brow.  Will  you  tell  me 
what  brought  it  there  ?" 

"Do  you  see  how  low  the  sun  is  sinking?  Before  its 
golden  rays  shall  have  left  this  quiet  spot  to-morrow,  Her- 
bert, my  friend,  will  have  been  thrust  from  this  beautiful 
world  into  the  dark  unknown." 

"  No,  not  dark,"  said  the  girl,  cheerfully.  "  God  is  there. 
It  is  light  where  God  is." 

"  Ah !  who  can  tell  us  of  the  hidden  future — the  mysteries 
which  lie  concealed  behind  the  curtain  of  time  ?"  he  said^ 
musingly ;  and  then,  as  if  fearful  of  the  influence  which 
his  words  might  have  upon  his  eager  listener,  he  added. 
"  True,  fairy,  God  is  there ;  and  if  he  wanted  my  friend,  he 
would  call  him,  would  he  not?  Ah,  he  is  too  good,  too 
noble,  to  meet  such  a  doom  I" 

"  You  loved  him  very  dearly  ?" 

"Very  dearly;  and  I  am  not  the  only  one.    He  ha*  a 


NOT  YET.  49 

mother  whose  aged  eyes  no  doubt  have  grown  dim  with 
weeping  and  watching  for  her  only  son,  and  who  would 
sink  into  the  grave  with  a  broken  heart  should  she  ever 
learn  his  fate.  But  this  is  not  all.  There  awaits  him  in  a 
distant  home  a  blue-eyed  maiden  with  golden  curls,  but  a 
shadow  rests  upon  the  thoughtful  brow,  robbing  her  cheek 
of  bloom  and  taking  the  vigor  from  her  young  life.  Poor, 
poor  Nettie !  she  will  grow  weary,  very  weary,  waiting  foi 
him  she  will  nevermore  behold !" 

The  tearful  eyes  of  the  listener  were  fixed  with  a  wonder- 
iug,  pitying  expression  upon  the  face  of  the  speaker  as  he 
uttered  these  words;  but  when  he  ceased,  and  his  head 
once  more  sank  dejectedly  upon  his  hand,  her  eyes  wan- 
dered with  a  wild,  unsteady  gaze  over  the  waters  until  they 
rested  in  their  deep  thoughtfulness  upon  the  far  distant  blua 
of  the  cloudless  sky,  down  which  the  sun  was  gradually 
sinking  to  his  nightly  rest.  At  last  she  aroused  herself,  and 
turning  once  more  to  her  companion,  asked,  mournfully, 

"Can't  you  save  him?" 

"No;  I  have  tried,  but  the  governor  refuses  to  interfere 
in  the  matter,  and  he  alone  has  the  power." 

"The  governor?  Oh,  I  remember  him.  He  visited  our 
island  last  summer,  and  placed  his  hand  upon  my  head 
when  he  was  leaving,  just  as  you  do ;  you  always  make  me 
think  of  him.  He  looked  so  kind  and  smiled  so  pleasantly 
as  he  told  me  to  love  my  teacher  and  be  a  good  little  girl, 
and  perhaps  I  would  be  a  fine  lady  some  day.  I  am  sure 
he  is  not  wicked." 

Edgarton  smiled  as  he  looked  into  the  beaming  face  and 
eaw  the  color  deepen  upon  her  cheek  as  she  repeated  these 
fondly  treasured  words  that  had  found  their  way  and  lodged 
in  the  little  beating  heart  like  some  fond  prophetic  dream. 

She  broke  the  momentary  silence  that  ensued  with  a 
whispered  "  good-bye,"  and  darted  away.  He  turned  quickly 
to  detain  her,  but  like  a  fleet  gazelle  she  bounded  down  the 
steep  descent,  and  was  speedily  out  of  sight. 


fiO  NOT  YET. 

That  night,  as  the  moon  commenced  hei  stately  march 
through  the  heavens,  illuminating  the  darkness  of  the  mid- 
night hours,  a  slender  boat  shot  out  from  the  shadows 
which  encircled  the  harbor,  and  with  the  speed  of  a  bird 
flew  out  over  the  open  waters.  It  was  freighted  only  with 
two  forms  as  swiftly,  silently,  it  sped  away. 

The  morning  for  the  execution  arrived.  Herbert  was 
seated  upon  his  bed,  his  whole  frame  shaking  and  quivering 
with  emotion,  his  head  bowed,  and  his  hands  tightly  clasped. 
As  the  kind  clergyman  entered  and  laid  his  hand  gently  upon 
him,  a  groan  of  inexpressible  grief  broke  from  his  lips. 

"  My  dear,  dear  Herbert,  what  is  it  that  so  disturbs  you  ? 
Can  it  be  that  your  approaching  death  unnerves  you,  and 
that,  as  you  stand  upon  the  brink  of  the  fearful  precipice  and 
gaze  into  the  depths  below,  you  shudder  and  start  back 
unwilling  to  take  the  final  leap  alone?  Oh,  then,  believe 
me  there  is  One  willing  to  be  your  guide  through  the  dense 
gloom,  aad  to  lead  you  safely  to  the  light  of  his  eternal 
glory.  Believe  it,  Herbert;  he  loves  you,  and  waits  only  fo! 
your  willingness  to  crown  you  his  for  ever." 

An  arm  was  placed  lovingly  about  the  neck  of  the  trem 
bling  man,  and  again  he  pleaded  with  him : 

"  I  love  you,  Herbert,  as  my  own  brother ;  and  could  the 
sacrifice  of  my  right  hand  or  my  right  eye  save  your  life, 
I  would  not  hesitate  a  moment  to  make  it.  But  oh,  your 
Boul !  What  would  I  not  give  to  save  your  soul  ?  And  do 
you  not  believe  the  precious  Saviour,  who  gave  his  life  for 
his  enemies,  is  equally  willing  to  save  you  ?  Oh,  try  him, 
try  him!" 

Tears  were  falling  fast  through  the  clenched  icy  fingera 
of  the  prisoner,  and  the  good  man,  kneeling  at  his  feet, 
poured  out  his  soul  in  an  earnest,  supplicating  appeal  to 
Him  whose  ear  is  ever  open  to  the  cry  of  his  children. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Herbert  as  the  faithful  minister  once 
more  sat  beside  him ;  "  I  am  calmed  now,  and  can  tell 
you  why  the  cold  waters  of  that  river  rolling  at  my  feet 


NOT  YET.  51 

make  me  shrink  and  tremble  with  apparent  fear.  Last 
night  I  slept.  In  dream  I  stood  upon  the  verge  of  that 
ever-boisterous,  surging  stream  whose  maddened  billowa 
are  ever  plunging  and  foaming  in  mighty  combat,  while  the 
thundering  tones  of  an  echoing  voice  continually  reverber- 
ated from  shore  to  shore  these  words  of  dismay :  'The  wrath 
of  an  eternal  God  shall  devour  his  adversaries.'  A  narrow 
bridge,  thin  and  vapory  as  the  morning  mist,  spanned  the 
ever-devouring  abyss,  and  on  this  frail  structure  my  feet 
were  about  to  tread.  I  looked.  Many  stepped  on  before 
me.  A  few  passed  joyfully  over,  and  a  strain  of  celestial 
music  was  wafted  back  as  each  new  voice  joined  in  the  ac- 
claim of  the  blood-washed  throng.  But,  alas  !  more  there 
were  that  fell  into  the  yawning  depths  beneath.  Some 
stepped  resolutely  upon  the  bridge  of  clouds,  and  immedi- 
ately plunged  from  sight.  Others  passed  almost  to  the 
other  side,  but  were  lost.  Trembling  I  stood,  not  daring  to 
advance,  when  a  form  arose  before  me.  '  Dost  thou  wondei 
at  what  ftiine  eyes  behold  ?'  it  sweetly  asked.  '  Know,  then, 
that  few  there  be  who  ever  enter  into  eternal  life,  because  of 
unbelief.  Confess  thy  sins,  believe  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
and  this  bridge  shall  become  firm  as  adamant  under  your 
feet,  for  the  holy  One  of  Israel  shall  uphold  thee.  Look 
again,'  it  exclaimed,  pointing  to  the  depths  below.  I 
obeyed.  The  waves  were  changed  to  billows  of  unquench- 
able fire,  and  the  same  thunder  tones  sounded  in  my  ears  : 
'  The  wrath  of  God  endureth  for  ever.'  Horror-stricken  at 
what  I  saw  and  heard,  with  an  agonizing  scream  I  awoke." 
A  shudder  passed  through  the  frame  of  the  prisoner,  and 
again  his  head  drooped  and  tears  fell  fast  through  hia 
quivering  fingers. 

"My  dear  friend,"  said  the  other,  in  faltering  accents 
"  examine  your  heart ;  is  there  not  some  cherished  sin  con- 
cealed there  which  will  weigh  you  down?  Oh,  be  wise; 
•earch  its  secret  chambers  for  thy  soul's  sake." 

For  a  moment  the  condemned  man  sat  in  deep  thought, 


62  NOT  YET. 

then  suddenly  clasping  the  hand  of  his  adviser,  he  exclaimed, 
fervently,  "  No,  no,  not  if  I  fall  into  those  ever-sweeping 
billows  over  which  I  shall  soon  attempt  to  cross !  Can  I 
sink  my  aged  mother,  if,  indeed,  she  still  lives,  deeper  into 
that  overwhelming  gulf  of  despair  into  which  I  have 
already  been  the  means  of  plunging  her  ?  No,  no ;  Edward 
Herbert  is  in  the  eyes  of  a  scrutinizing  public  a  foul  mur- 
derer, and  in  a  few  hours  vengeance  will  wipe  out  the  stain 
of  my  transgression  with  my  blood ;  but  the  mention  of 
that  name  will  send  no  poignant  darts  into  bosoms  already 
lacerated,  filling  up  the  work  my  hands  have  wrought  with 
bitterness  and  woe.  No,  my  kind  and  faithful  friend,  there 
is  not  a  secret  act  of  my  whole  life,  not  a  word  of  my  mouth 
or  a  thought  of  my  heart,  that  I  would  not  lay  open  before 
you,  if  by  so  doing  I  could  dispel  the  agony  of  your  soul 
which  I  see  reflected  in  your  countenance,  but  my  name  I 
can  never  reveal,  even  to  you ;  for  much  ae  I  love  and  rever- 
ence you,  there  are  others  whom  I  love  more.  To  save  them 
from  the  acutest  anguish  which  can  tear  mortal  hftirts  will 
I  step  upon  that  bridge  of  air  with  this  one  secret  unre- 
vealed." 

He  shuddered  fearfully,  and  was  silent.  In  vain  were  all 
his  friend's  pleadings  and  prayers.  Herbert  remained  im- 
movably firm  in  his  resolution,  though  his  persistence  was 
calm  and  considerate. 

It  was  noon.  The  dark  clouds  which  all  the  morning 
had  been  collecting  over  the  island  now  paused  in  their 
movements  over  the  meridian  sun,  shutting  out  its  cheering 
rays  and  casting  a  deeper  gloom  over  the  place  where  the 
tragedy  was  so  soon  to  be  completed. 

"  I  cannot  see  him  die,"  exclaimed  Edgarton,  as,  looking 
through  the  window,  he  beheld  the  rude  scaffold  at  the  far- 
ther end  of  the  jrard,  with  its  dangling  rope  swaying  to  and 
fro  in  the  breeze — "  I  cannot,  I  will  not,  see  him  die.  '  Faint- 
hearted soldier,'  I  know  they  will  call  me,  and  laugh  and 


NOT  YET.  63 

jeer  at  my  weakness ;  but  I  cannot.  Other  eyes  may  feast 
their  fill  at  sight  of  the  writhing  form  which  justice  suspends 
before  their  eager  gaze,  but  mine  shall  turn  away  from  the 
horrid  spectacle." 

"See,"  said  he,  as  he  stood  some  little  time  afterward 
talking  with  Col.  Ray,  pointing  to  the  dark  clouds  which 
hung  over  them;  "the  very  heavens  are  frowning  upon 
us,  and  all  nature  seems  troubled  and  excited.  I  wish  this 
tragical  scene  were  not  to  be  enacted  here.  If  it  must  be 
done,  why  could  they  not  have  kept  him  at  Green  Bay  ?  I 
cannot  agree  with  the  sage  dispenser  of  law  and  justice,"  he 
continued,  ironically,  "  that  the  execution  here,  before  these 
savages  with  whom  we  are  surrounded,  will  do  us  any  good. 
The  island  is  covered  to-day,  and  loaded  canoes  are  still 
arriving.  Herbert  has  been  a  long  time  with  them,  and  has 
been  a  great  favorite  among  them.  I  have  seen  indignation 
as  well  as  grief  upon  every  tawny  countenance  I  have  met 
this  morning." 

"  I  fear  nothing  from  them,"  answered  the  colonel,  coolly 
"but  I  would  gladly  have  saved  Herbert  from  this  igno- 
minious death  had  it  been  in  my  power.  The  last  trial 
was  a  mere  farce.  A  single  intimation  from  the  governor 
would  have  changed  it  all ;  I  am  sure  of  it.  But  it  is  all 
over  now.  Herbert's  lease  of  life  runs  out  at  the  expiration 
of  the  next  half  hour." 

"  So  soon  ?  But  you  do  not  need  me,  colonel ,  I  cannot 
witness  this  scene." 

"  Just  as  you  choose;"  and  the  commanding  officer  turned 
slowly  away. 

Three  o'clock  came  at  last,  and  the  rude  gallows  was, 
nearly  surrounded  by  the  soldiery,  while  the  muffled  drum 
beat  with  measured  solemnity  to  the  sad,  low  music  of  a 
death  dirge  which  the  band  was  playing.  The  distant 
thunder  seemed  charged  with  echoes  of  dismal  wailing^ 
while  the  clouds  sunk  lower  and  lower,  as  if  to  shut  in  the 
closing  struggle.  Hark !  a  hush  seems  to  pervade  the  very 
i* 


M  NOT  YET. 

atmosphere  while  the  sound  of  clanking  chains  drawl 
nearer  and  nearer. 

Herbert  walks  with  a  firm  step  in  the  midst  of  the  guard, 
followed  by  his  faithful  friend,  the  mission  pastor.  Slowly 
he  ascends  the  rough  steps,  and  stands  beneath  the  swing- 
ing rope.  All  eyes  are  turned  upon  the  tall,  manly  figure 
before  them ;  their  gaze  is  met  with  a  kind,  friendly  saluta- 
tion, and  then  the  clear,  ringing  voice  so  familiar  to  every 
ear  bids  them  a  last  farewell.  The  rope  is  adjusted  about 
his  neck,  and  the  low,  feeble  words  of  prayer  mingle  with 
the  thunder's  low  moan  and  the  sighing  of  the  cool,  damp 
winds.  In  a  moment  more —  Oh  how  the  beating  heart 
throbs  and  the  soul  grows  faint  as  the  drum  continues  its 
muffled  sound  and  the  prayer  still  goes  upward ! 

Hark !  A  shriek — a  shriek !  What  means  that  piercing 
cry  ?  Nearer,  nearer  it  comes ;  voices  have  caught  the  dis- 
tantly uttered  words,  and  on — on — on  the  wind's  breath  are 
borne  the  pleading  accents :  "  Don't  hang  him — don't  hang 
him !"  and  in  a  moment  more  the  Indian  girl  comes  bound- 
ing through  the  excited  multitude,  her  dark  curls  flying 
in  disorder  about  her  face  and  her  brilliant  eyes  flashing 
with  their  intense  light,  holding  in  her  hand  a  sealed  paper, 
which  she  hurriedly  presents  to  the  commanding  officer. 
"  Stay  the  execution !"  he  shouts  as  he  unfolds  the  paper. 
"I  hold  in  my  hand  an  unlimited  reprieve  for  Edward 
Herbert."  His  words  were  lost  in  one  long,  exulting  shout 
that  rent  the  air  and  drowned  the  mutterings  of  the  ap- 
proaching storm,  while  the  death  dirge  was  forgotten,  and 
the  drum  beat  a  rapid  accompaniment  to  the  universal 
rejoicing. 

Herbert,  with  unmoved  features,  the  rope  once  more 
swaying  to  and  fro  above  his  head,  stood  and  looked 
wonderingly  on.  What  could  it  mean  ?  His  feet  had  well- 
nigh  stepped  upon  that  "  bridge  of  clouds ;"  who  had  called 
him  back? 

The  shout  at  last  died  away,  and  there,  at  the  feet  of  the 


NOT  YET.  55 

wondering  Herbert  lay  the  prostrate  form  of  his  spiritual 
friend  and  guide. 

"Oh,  it  has  killed  him,"  he  cried,  bending  over  him; 
but  his  hands  were  fast,  and  he  could  offer  him  no  assist- 
ance. 

"  He  has  only  fainted,"  said  the  physician  in  attendance, 
holding  his  head,  until  two  soldiers  advanced  and  bore 
him  away. 

Herbert  was  led  back  to  his  cell  before  Edgarton,  who 
had  wandered  far  down  along  the  beach,  again  entered  the 
fort.  The  sound  of  boisterous  shouting  had  reached  his 
ear.  Its  startling  incongruity  with  the  solemnity  of  the 
occasion  excited  his  amazement,  and  full  of  wonder  and 
apprehension  he  had  hurriedly  retraced  his  steps.  A  soldier 
met  him  at  the  gate,  exclaiming,  "  Herbert  is  safe  for  the 
present,  at  least." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  inquired  Edgarton,  not  at  all 
comprehending  the  unexpected  announcement. 

"Why,  the  beautiful  Wild-Flower  has  saved  his  life — 
been  to  the  governor  and  obtained  a  reprieve  when  every- 
body else  failed." 

"  God  bless  her !"  said  Edgarton,  as  he  rushed  forward 
and  hastened  to  his  friend's  cell. 

But  where  was  the  beautiful "  Wild-Flower"  all  this  time ? 
Like  an  angel  of  mercy  she  had  appeared  among  them, 
bearing  in  her  hand  the  magic  wand  which  had  driven 
back  the  ghastly  form  of  Death,  that  stood  waiting  to  clasp 
in  his  bony  arms  the  fleeting  life  of  the  victim,  and  as  soon 
as  her  mission  was  ended  she  had  as  suddenly  vanished 
from  their  sight. 

Oh  what  joy  filled  her  young  heart  as  she  found  herself 
once  more  encircled  in  the  arms  of  her  dear  teacher,  who 
was  attentively  listening  to  her  night's  adventure.  Had 
she  not  saved  the  life  of  Herbert,  and  filled  his  soul  with 
gladness  ? 


CHAPTER  X. 
OWAETA'S  VOW. 

THREE  days  subsequent  to  the  events  narrated  in  the 
last  chapter,  Edgarton  was  again  seated  in  his  accus- 
tomed place  on  the  rocky  eminence  overlooking  the  harbor, 
and  upon  the  bosom  of  the  waters  beneath  him  many  light 
canoes  differing  in  structure  were  quietly  reposing.  A  few 
hours  before,  Herbert  had  stood  upon  that  very  spot  and 
bidden  him  an  affectionate  farewell,  before  stepping  into 
the  boat  that  awaited  him,  in  which  he  was  taken,  still 
fettered  and  guarded,  back  to  the  lonely  prison  which  he 
had  left  but  a  short  time  before,  when  he  came  forth,  as  he 
thought,  to  die.  Again  he  was  to  return  to  it,  and  patiently 
there  await  the  further  pleasure  of  the  law  concerning  him. 

"  What  a  changing  scene !"  soliloquized  Edgarton  to  him- 
self, as  he  sat  looking  out  upon  the  trackless  waters  over 
•which  he  had  seen  Herbert  disappear — "  a  dizzy  whirl  of 
passing  events !  I  seem  to  have  lost  my  identity  in  its 
bewildering  mazes,  and  the  end  is  not  yet.  Can  I  be 
dreaming?  No,  no ;  the  sun  is  actually  shining  upon  those 
humble  dwellings  at  my  feet,  and  the  cool  breeze  from  the 
lake  is  without  doubt  having  fine  sport  with  the  bright 
green  leaves  above  me." 

It  was  true  that  Edgarton  was  not  dreaming,  yet  weird 
fancies  seemed  floating  before  him,  and  his  mind  was  filled 
with  strange  emotions. 

"  I  am  young,"  he  continued  soliloquizing,  "  and  possess 
a  fortune  which,  though  moderate,  is  sufficient  to  carry  out 
my  wildest  schemes.  Why  should  I  not  do  as  I  please  with 
it?"  Just  then  the  coming  of  the  Indian  girl  interrupted 
the  current  of  his  thoughts. 

66 


OWAETA'S  VOW.  57 

"  I  knew  you  would  come,  fairy.  I  was  sure  of  it,  and 
was  waiting  patiently  for  you." 

"  How  did  you  know  it  ?  Because  you  saw  me  coming  ? 
But  I  only  came  to  see  if  you  were  happy.  The  last  time 
I  saw  you  here,  your  face  was  dark  with  sorrow.  But  it  is 
gone  now ;"  and  a  smile  lit  up  her  beautiful  features. 

"  Yes,  it  is  gone,  and  your  presence  is  the  blessed  sun- 
shine which  has  dispelled  it.  Come  here,  and  sit  by  me ;  I 
want  to  hear  from  your  own  lips  the  story  of  your  strange 
and  successful  adventure.  What  put  it  into  your  little  head 
to  perform  such  a  heroic  deed  ?" 

"  The  grief  that  made  the  white  man?s  heart  so  heavy." 

"  Mine,  fairy  ?  Was  it  because  I  was  sad  you  saved  the 
life  of  my  friend?" 

"  Yes ;  the  poor  Indian  girl  loves  to  see  you  happy." 

"  Then  look  at  me,  fairy ;  for  you  know  not  how  happy 
your  words  have  made  me ;"  and  he  raised  the  little  cap- 
tive hand  to  his  lips. 

"  My  words  ?"  she  exclaimed,  in  astonishment. 

"Yes,  yours.  But  come,  I  am  anxious  to  hear  your 
night's  adventure." 

"  Very  well,  you  shall  hear  it.  When  I  last  sat  here,  upon 
this  spot  beside  you,  and  watched  the  sun  as  it  sank  lower 
and  lower,  until  it  dipped  its  beaming  face  in  the  dark  blue 
waters  of  the  lake,  and  knew  that  before  his  next  day's 
journey  should  be  ended,  your  friend,  and  the  friend  of  my 
people,  would  be  forcibly  driven  to  the  spirit-land,  I  silently 
breathed  a  vow  to  departing  day  that  night  should  bring  no 
slumber  to  my  eyelids  until  he  was  saved.  As  I  left  you, 
your  call  reached  my  ear,  but  my  swift  foot  would  not  tarry, 
and  quickly  I  flew  to  the  tent  where  bold  Wehegan  delights 
to  greet  his  Owaeta.  He  was  sitting  under  the  shade  of  his 
bark  canoe,  smoking  his  evening  pipe.  '  Brave  Wehegan,' 
I  asked, '  do  you  love  Owaeta  ?'  '  Ah !  more  than  the  swift- 
est and  best  of  the  Winnebagoes.'  4 Then,'  said  I, '  when  the 
pale  now  moon  that  shines  so  dimly  above  us  shall  have 


58  OWAETA'S  VOW. 

reached  the  middle  of  the  heavens  in  her  course,  meet  me 
at  the  overhanging  rock  of  the  harbor  with  your  swift  canoe 
and  tiny  oar,  that  pierces  the  bosom  of  the  deep  with  noise- 
less haste,  and  with  the  swiftness  of  the  eagle's  flight  we  will 
speed  away.  Owaeta  has  breathed  a  vow ;  will  you  help 
her  to  keep  it?'  '  If  she  will  breathe  another  to  the  lonely 
Wehegan,'  he  answered.  '  Then  come,  I  would  save  tlu 
noble  white  man's  life ;  and  if  at  this  hour  to-morrow  ht 
still  lives,  Wehegan  shall  hear  the  dark  maiden's  vow.'  " 

Edgarton  started :  "  Flora,  do  you  love  the  Indian  war- 
rior, the  bold  Wehegan  ?" 

"  He  loves  me,"  she  answered,  timidly.  "  I  must  sit  in 
his  wigwam,  cook  his  venison,  prepare  his  bed,  and  watch 
to  welcome  him  when  his  feet  are  weary  from  the  chase." 

"  Well,"  he  said,  after  a  pause,  during  which  he  had  been 
gazing  into  her  unchanging  face,  "  you  saw  the  governor. 
Was  he  kind  to  you  ?" 

"  Oh  yes  ;  but  he  would  not  listen  to  my  request  at  first, 
and  so  I  told  him  of  the  red  men's  vengeance — how  they 
bad  vowed  to  spare  none  that  should  see  the  gentle  Herbert 
die.  I  was  kneeling  before  him.  He  bade  me  rise,  then 
left  me.  A  long  time  he  was  away,  but  finally  returned, 
handed  me  a  roll,  and  placing  his  hand  kindly  upon  my 
head,  bade  me  hasten,  or  I  would  be  too  late.  The  sun 
shone  brightly  upon  the  waters  as  we  stepped  again  into 
the  canoe  which  was  to  bear  us  back  to  the  island.  Brave 
Wehegan  I  His  arm  faltered  not  as  his  keen  eye  watched 
the  great  golden  orb  rise  higher  and  higher,  and  the  threat- 
ening clouds  grow  thicker  and  blacker  as  they  gathered 
together,  until  their  great  shadows  rested  down  upon  us, 
and  the  thunder  came  rolling  up  from  the  distant  lake. 
His  unflinching  gaze  pierced  the  clouds  and  marked  the 
progress  of  the  fleeting  hours  by  the  sun's  upward  flight. 
More  vigorously,  more  resolutely,  he  plied  the  oar,  never  re- 
laxing his  wearisome  toil  until  the  canoe  sped  into  the 
harbor  and  darted  high  upon  yonder  beach.  He  saved 


OWAETA'S  VOW.  59 

him — the  brave  Wehegan  saved  the  life  of  the  red  man's 
friend — and  not  I,  the  poor,  weak  Indian  girl." 

"  And  for  his  services  at  this  time  you  have  promised  to 
Jive  in  his  lodge  and  be  his  forever?" 

"Yes." 

"  Then  listen  to  me,  Flora.  Herbert  is  not  pardoned — 
only  reprieved.  The  fickle  governor  may  take  it  into  his 
head  at  any  time  to  fix  another  day  for  his  execution,  and 
only  to  lengthen  out  a  little  longer  the  brittle  thread  of  a 
miserable  existence  you  have  given  yourself  to  one  whom 
you  do  not  love,  and  sunk  the  heart  you  sought  to  raise 
from  despondency  deeper,  deeper  into  sorrow." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?"  she  exclaimed,  vehemently,  turn- 
ing her  large,  dark  eyes  full  upon  him.  "  Why  should  the 
heart  of  the  paleface  be  sorrowful  because  the  Indian  girl 
seeks  the  lodge  of  the  dark-browed  warrior  ?" 

"  Tell  me,  beautiful,  artless  child,"  he  said,  drawing  her 
gently  toward  him,  "  would  not  the  days  seem  long  and 
those  bright  eyes  sometimes  be  dimmed  with  tears  if  I 
were  away  and  you  could  meet  me  no  more  ?  So  would 
my  life  be  dull  and  lonely  without  my  beautiful  island 
fairy." 

"  The  Indian  girl  has  vowed,"  she  answered,  plaintively, 
riping,  and  looking  steadily  at  him,  "  and  her  vow  is  never 
broken."  So  saying,  she  darted  down  the  narrow  pathway, 
and  was  soon  out  of  sight. 

"  It  shall  be  broken,"  he  exclaimed,  indignantly.  "  That 
6eautiful  girl,  in  whose  veins  blood  as  pure  as  mine  is  now 
coursing,  shall  not  be  thus  sacrificed.  Oh  no ;  all  my 
native  power  shall  be  put  forth  for  the  next  three  months 
to  bring  about  my  designs." 

Thus  soliloquizing,  he  wended  his  way  to  the  mission 
house.  He  had  of  late  been  a  frequent  and  welcome  visit- 
or at  that  place.  His  kind  and  gentle  manners,  his  affec- 
tionate and  sympathizing  disposition,  had  been  a  sure  pass- 
port to  that  little  band  of  Christians  who  stood  upon  that 


60  OWAETA'S  VOW. 

solitary  island,  like  a  lone  beacon-light  upon  some  dreary 
barren  shore.  The  good  pastor  arose  and  extended  his 
hand  in  friendly  greeting  as  he  entered,  and  soon  they 
were  engaged  in  earnest  conversation  concerning  the  thrill- 
ing events  of  the  past  few  days.  At  last  Edgarton  re- 
marked, 

"  I  have  a  little  plan  in  my  mind  which  I  would  be  glad 
to  disclose  to  you  for  your  approval,  as  I  am  desirous  of 
taking  no  steps  in  such  an  important  matter  without  first 
consulting  one  more  experienced  in  good  works  than  my- 
self." 

"  If  my  opinion  or  advice  will  be  of  any  service  to  you 
most  cheerfully  will  I  give  it." 

"  It  will  be  of  so  much  importance  that  it  will  decide  my 
future  action  in  reference  to  the  subject  of  which  I  shall 
speak.  In  about  three  months  I  shall  leave  this  island, 
where  memory  will  ever  find  many  pleasing  associations, 
and,  after  a  brief  tour  in  the  Southern  States,  shall  sail  for 
my  English  home.  My  boyish  thirst  for  romance  and  ex- 
citement has  been  nearly  satisfied,  and  I  long  for  quiet  and 
repose.  I  have  inherited  a  fortune  more  than  sufficient  for 
my  limited  wants,  and  it  is  in  regard  to  the  disposition  of 
the  surplus  that  I  would  consult  you." 

"  I  fear  I  shall  prove  but  an  incompetent  adviser  in 
money  matters,  for  my  experience  in  such  affairs  has  been 
exceedingly  limited,"  he  replied,  smiling. 

"  Wisdom,  my  dear  sir,  is  not  confined  to  the  possessor 
of  great  wealth  ;  and  I  doubt  much  if  you  would  be  will- 
ing to  exchange  the  results  of  your  labors  in  the  Master's 
vineyard  for  abundant  riches." 

"  No,  no !"  and  a  look  of  perfect  satisfaction  stole  over  the 
face  of  the  worthy  missionary,  as  his  visitor  centinued : 

"  You  have  one  pupil  in  whom  I  feel  a  very  great  interest. 
I  would  like,  partly  to  satisfy  a  very  justifiable  curiosity 
and  partly  from  a  higher  motive — the  good  she  might 
effect  among  her  people — to  witness  the  power  of  a  liberal 


OWAETA'S   VOW.  61 

education  and  the  influence  of  society  upon  a  native  child 
of  the  woods." 

"  Flora?"  asked  the  missionary,  in  surprise. 

"  Yes,  the  beautiful,  artless  child  whom  you  call  Flora." 

"  \Ve  have  ceased  to  look  upon  her  as  a  child,  she  has 
been  with  us  so  long,  and  we  have  had  an  opportunity  of 
witnessing  yearly  the  developing  of  her  moral  and  intellect- 
uul  character.  We  think  of  her  as  past  her  childhood, 
forgetting  that  she  cannot  be  more  than  fifteen.  But 
before  I  can  advise  with  you  at  all  concerning  your  interest 
in  l.er,  I  shall  be  obliged  to  consult  my  co-workers  respecting 
it,  and  think  and  pray  much  over  the  matter.  I  would 
rejoice  to  see  her  become  useful  to  her  people,  and  think 
perhaps  she  can  be  as  well  prepared  to  be  so  here  as  else- 
where. They  do  not  need  the  influences  of  a  refined 
education  in  their  present  position,  but  the  plain,  practical 
truths  of  civilization  and  religion." 

"  Very  true ;  but  it  seems  to  me  that  the  higher  you  can 
elevate  one  of  them,  the  more  attractive  will  the  beauties  of 
these  two  great  elements  appear." 

"  It  may  be  so.  Have  you  said  anything  to  Flora  concern- 
ing this?" 

"  Not  a  word ;  I  felt  it  my  duty  to  consult  you  first." 

"  Thank  you ;  it  shall  receive  my  careful  attention.  But 
where  would  you  place  her  to  be  educated  ?  Perhaps  you 
have  not  thought  of  the  difficulties  which  would  be  thrown 
in  your  way,  should  you  attempt  such  an  enterprise  ?" 

"  Pardon  me,  sir,  but  I  have  pondered  it  well.  In  a  dis- 
tant city  is  a  large  seminary  for  young  ladies  coming  from 
all  parts  of  the  world,  and  near  the  school  a  distant  relative 
of  mine  resides.  In  her  family  I  would  place  her ;  and 
inheriting,  as  she  does,  a  truly  French  character  from  her 
father,  her  lineage  would  not  readily  be  imagined;  and  I 
think  I  could  easily  arrange  this  matter,"  he  said,  smilingly, 
as  he  arose  to  depart,  "  and  shall  wait  impatiently  for  your 
views  upon  the  subject" 

6 


62  OWAETA'S  WOW. 

"  You  shall  have  them  soon,  but  I  advise  you,  in  the 
meantime,  to  review  the  whole  plan  carefully.  There  may 
be  some  points  of  difficulty  that  have  escaped  you." 

"  Truly,"  thought  Edgarton,  a  few  moments  after,  as-  he 

saw  Flora  standing  upon  the  beach  surrounded  by  several 

little  swarthy  faces  that  were  all  turned  upward  to  her  aa 

lit  talked  to  them,  "truly,  she  seems  to  me  even,  to  have 

ost  her  childhood   since  that  eventful  night;    yet  how 

petite  and  graceful  she  appears,  standing  there  with  the 

lingering  sunbeams  playing  all  around  her!    No,  no!  by 

the  glories  of  departing  day,  I  swear  it !    She  shall  not  marry 

the  Indian  warrior,  Wehegan !" 


CHAPTER  XL 
LEFT  TO  HIS  FATE. 

OH  how  the  days  and  weeks  with  busy  feet  trip  away !  Aa 
the  ripples  chase  each  other  on  the  surface  of  the  mcun 
tain  stream,  on,  ceaselessly  on,  in  their  unresisting  course, 
so  hurriedly  pass  the  precious  hours,  propelled  by  the  ever 
approaching  future,  down  the  current  of  time.  The  past — 
whither  has  it  fled?  The  future — where  is  it?  Upon  a 
narrow  bridge,  of  but  a  moment's  width  we  stand  between 
these  two  great  oceans  of  eternity,  yet  from  this  narrow 
standpoint  we  look  back,  and  memory  lights  up  the  retreat- 
ing years  with  many  a  gladsome  recollection.  Then  forward 
to  the  future!  Oh,  what  a  halo  of  brightness  "Hope" 
delights  to  spread  over  its  shadowy  uncertainties !  To  the 
youthful  vision  it  is  near,  almost  within  its  greedy  grasp, 
but  like  the  ignis  fatuus  it  leads  alluringly  on  over  life's 
uneven  path,  until  old  age  beholds  it  burning  with  a  steady 
glow  beyond  the  tomb,  yet  still  beckoning,  still  alluring. 
Hope,  sweet  hope !  oh,  how  it  cheers  us  when  the  heart 
grows  sick  and  weary,  and  is  ready  to  lay  down  its  burden 
by  the  dufcty  roadside,  faint  and  weary !  How  it  invites  us 
on  ever  to  renewed  activity  and  exertion  I 

Edgarton  did  not  falter  in  his  resolution,  although  the 
time  for  his  departure  was  nigh  at  hand,  and  the  consum- 
mation of  his  wishes  seemed  farther  than  ever  from  him. 
Anxiously  had  he  sought  an  interview  with  the  Indian  girl, 
yet  the  three  months  had  nearly  passed  away,  and  he  had 
failed  to  obtain  it.  Why  did  she  so  studiously  avoid  him  ? 
She  came  no  more  to  their  rocky  trysting-place,  nor  did  she 
walk  alone  by  the  water's  edge,  where  they  had  so  often 

u 


64  LEFT  TO  HIS  FATE. 

met  and  together  listened  to  the  soft,  low  complaint  of  the 
murmuring  waves.  But  he  had  often  seen  her  in  his  re- 
peated visits  at  the  mission-house,  and  her  large  dark  eyes 
had  met  his  with  a  lustre  as  brilliant  as  aforetimes. 

It  was  a  hot,  sultry  morning  in  midsummer  that  Edgarton 
emerged  from  the  fort  to  enjoy  the  cool,  fragrant  breeze  that 
?ame  up  from  the  distant  lake,  herald  of  approaching  day. 
How  oppressively  calm  and  serene  was  the  dewy  face  of 
nature  at  this  early  hour !  The  sun  had  not  yet  risen  above 
the  eastern  hills  to  chase  away  the  night  shadows  which 
lingered  in  the  vale.  Silence  walked  upon  the  waters, 
hushing  their  fitful  complaints,  and  waved  her  silvery  wand 
over  the  little  island  slumbering  silently  upon  its  bosom. 

Edgarton  wandered  on,  sad  and  restless.  That  day  he 
was  to  pay  a  farewell  visit  to  the  unhappy  Herbert,  of 
whose  final  fate  he  was  perhaps  for  ever  to  remain  in 
ignorance.  Nor  was  this  all.  In  a  little  more  than  a 
week  many  farewells  must  be  spoken  and  the  future  of 
others  must  be  left  undecided,  and  their  destinies  be  long, 
if  not  forever,  unknown.  One  face,  one  figure,  arose  prom- 
inently in  the  mist  of  uncertainty. 

"  Why  should  I  care  for  the  Indian  girl  ?  Why  make 
myself  unhappy  because  she  presumes  to  choose  the  path 
in  which  she  prefers  to  walk?  Speak,  0  my  heart!"  he 
exclaimed,  seating  himself  upon  the  root  of  an  overhanging 
treo.  "Speak!  What  dost  thou  expect  from  the  tawny 
maid  of  the  forest?  Hush !  dare  not  lisp  it!  Educate  her 
and  claim  her  for  thine  own?  Absurd!  I'll  break  thia 
paltry  cord,  and  stand  forth  a  man.  Yes,  clothed  in  my 
right  mind.  Ha,  ha !  I  must  have  been  dreaming !  But 
thanks  to  my  better  judgment  I  am  now  awake — fully 
awake !" 

Alas !  0  man,  how  transient  the  purposes  formed  in  the 
morning  wakings !  Turn  thy  face  to  the  wall,  and  then 
wisdom  may  not  disturb  thee.  "A  little  more  sleep,  a 
little  more  slumber,"  and  under  the  delusive  smile  of 


LEFT  TO  HIS  FATE.  65 

beauty  thy  dream  will  return  again.  See,  the  sun  is  rising, 
and  the  dark  shadows  retreat  before  its  scintillating  rays ; 
even  thus,  Edgarton,  shall  thy  firm  resolve  flee  away  before 
the  enchanting  rays  from  beauty's  eyes. 

He  wandered  on,  and  once  more  stood  by  the  door  of  the 
mission  house.  There  was  life  here,  for  the  sound  of  voices 
reached  his  ear.  He  was  about  to  make  his  presence  known 
by  a  slight  tap  upon  the  door,  when  it  suddenly  opened 
from  within,  and  in  an  instant  his  beautiful  fairy  stood 
before  him.  A  faint  shriek  of  surprise  escaped  her  lips 
as  she  attempted  to  dart  past  him,  but  his  strong  arm  en- 
circled her  waist  as  he  exclaimed, 

"  No,  no,  fairy ;  not  so  fast.  I  cannot  let  you  go  until 
you  tell  me  why  you  will  not  see  me  any  more,  nor  talk  to 
me,  as  you  used  to  do." 

A  footstep  was  heard  approaching  the  door,  and  Edgarton 
clasped  her  to  his  heart  as  she  whispered, 

"  Wehegan  hates  the  paleface ;"  and  with  one  unutterable 
look  of  pity  and  affection,  she  struggled  from  his  embrace 
and  was  gone. 

Ah,  yes  I  He  saw  it  all  now.  Their  little  interviews  had 
been  discovered,  and  the  jealous  lover  had  laid  his  com- 
mands upon  his  betrothed.  What  was  to  be  done  ?  But 
his  judgment,  kind,  good  monitor,  came  to  his  aid,  and  he 
once  more  felt  himself  a  man. 

The  days  have  rippled  on  down  the  restless  stream,  and 
to-morrow  Edgarton  leaves  the  island.  A  ship  rests  upon 
the  lake  outside,  and  a  boat  is  waiting  at  the  harbor  to  con- 
vey his  baggage  thither.  Edgarton  has  just  stepped  upon 
tlie  shore,  returning  from  a  visit  to  the  noble  craft  which  is 
to  I  ear  him  away. 

"  We  will  return  for  you  this  evening,"  was  said,  as  the 
boat  pushed  off  from  shore  again  ;  "  for  if  the  wind  prove 
favorable,  we  must  be  off  by  midnight." 

Lil  tie  more  remained  for  him  to  do — a  short  visit  to  the 
lurt,  a  few  affectionate  adieus  to  be  spoken,  a  general  "good- 

6» 


66  LEFT  TO  HIS  FATE. 

bye "  to  his  companions,  and  finally  a  visit  to  the  mission 
house  to  receive  for  the  last  time  the  kindly  bene'dictiun 
which  awaited  him. 

The  curtains  of  evening  were  slowly  encircling  the  earth, 
shutting  cut  once  more  retiring  day,  as  Edgarton  was  sitting 
in  compacy  with  his  kind  friend  in  front  of  the  mission 
house,  watching  the  progress  of  the  boat  which  was 
approaching  from  the  ship. 

"  I  must  confess  my  regrets,"  said  Mr.  Hawes,  after  a 
short  silence,  "  at  Flora's  choice.  She  does  not  seem  to  me 
like  a  daughter  of  the  uncivilized  people,  and  I  would  much 
rather  she  should  not  unite  herself  to  them ;  but  as  she  is 
undeniably  of  them,  we  shall  be  forced  to  be  content  with 
her  decision.  No  doubt  it  will  prove  for  the  best.  God  is 
wiser  than  we,  and  I  fully  believe  in  his  overruling  power 
in  all  things." 

Edgarton  was  about  to  reply,  when  a  voice  summoned  hia 
companion  away.  Quick  as  thought,  Flora  darted  from  her 
hiding-place  and  stood  before  him. 

"  Oh,"  she  exclaimed,  passionately,  "  I  thought  I  should 
not  see  you  again,  and  you  would  not  bid  me  good- 
bye." 

"You  would  not  permit  me,"  exclaimed  Edgarton, 
hurriedly. 

"Meet  me  there  in  an  hour — will  you?"  she  asked, 
pointing  with  her  finger  to  their  old  tiy sting-place,  just 
a  little  way  beyond. 

"  Wehegan  ?"  whispered  Edgarton. 

"  He  will  be  gone.    Will  you  come?" 

"  Yes,  I'll  be  there ;"  and  with  this  assurance,  she  as 
quickly  disappeared. 

Slowly  the  boat  with  its  crew  entered  the  little  harbor, 
and  Edgarton,  bidding  his  friend,  who  had  now  returned, 
a  hasty  adieu,  hurried  down  to  the  beach  to  greet  them.  A 
short  conversation  with  the  sturdy  tars,  a  few  words  of 
merriment,  and  a  silver  coin  in  the  hands  of  each,  awoke 


LEFT  TO  HIS  FATE.  67 

their  good  humor;  and  when  Edgarton  left  them,  they 
promised  to  be  there  in  an  hour  to  await  his  return. 

The  beautiful  stars  were  coming  forth  one  by  one  from 
their  hiding-places,  reflecting  their  mild,  pure  light  in  the 
tranquil  waters,  as  he  once  more,  and  for  the  last  time, 
seated  himself  upon  the  moss-covered  rocks  where  he  had 
often  sat  before,  and  waited  for  a  familiar  footfall  that  would 
greet  his  ear  but  once  again. 

A  sadness  oppressed  him.  Why  had  he  promised  to 
come?  It  would  have  been  so  much  better  not  to  have 
met  her  again.  How  could  he  leave  that  beautiful  girl  to 
be  the  sport  of  unknown  circumstances  ?  But  it  must  not 
be  so.  "  How  gladly  I  would  have  saved  her  from  the  fate 
which  awaits  her  I"  he  audibly  soliloquized ;  "  but  she  would 
not — no,  she  would  not." 

A  small  arm  was  thrown  around  his  neck  and  a  head 
dropped  upon  his  shoulder. 

"Sweet  fairy,"  he  murmured,  returning  her  caresses, 
"  you  are  weeping.  Do  you,  then,  wish  you  had  consented 
to  go  with  me  ?  Oh,  you  do  not  know  what  a  fine  lady  I 
would  have  made  of  you.  You  would  have  been  honored 
and  loved,  and  I,  proud  of  my  beautiful  Flora.  It  was 
cruel  in  you — yes,  mockery — to  give  yourself  to  that  Indian 
\s  ardor.  You  do  not  love  him.  Neither  does  he  love  you 
one  half  as  well  as  I  do.  Why  would  you  not  go  with 
me?" 

"  Hush,  hush !"  she  murmured.  "  Do  not  talk  so.  It 
makes  me  tremble.  Oh,  I  should  not  have  come  here. 
]>ut  I  was  wretched.  You  have  been  so  kind,  so  gentle,  not 
like  any  one  else.  Oh,  it  will  be  dark  to  the  poor  Owaeta 
when  you  are  gone;"  and  again  her  head  drooped  and 
eobs  convulsed  her  frame. 

"  Do  not  weep,  but  tell  me  why  you  would  never  meet 
me  since  our  last  visit  to  this  spot." 

„     "  Wehegan's  eyes  spake  death  to  the  white  man,  as  he 
bade  me  not  see  you  again,  and  I  dared  not" 


68  LEFT  TO  HIS  FATE. 

"  Where  ie  he  to-night?" 

%<  Left  the  inland  an  hour  ago,  or  I  should  not  have  been 
nere." 

"  Poor  child !  you  are  afraid  of  the  warrior  with  whom 
you  must  always  live.  Flora,  I  cannot  endure  it.  Go  with 
me ;  it  is  not  too  late.  I  will  protect  you." 

"  No,  no,  no!  I  cannot!  I  dare  not!"  She  lay  upon 
liis  bosom,  poor,  innocent  child !  and  the  bright  stars  looked 
lovingly  upon  her  and  smiled.  Hark !  she  suddenly  starta 
k  her  feet  and  becomes  silent  and  motionless  as  a  statue, 
while  her  keen,  dark  eyes  peer  steadily  through  the  dark- 
ness which  surrounds  the  overhanging  cliff. 

"You  could  have  heard  nothing,"  said  Edgarton,  clasp- 
ing her  waist  and  standing  beside  her.  "  You  are  unneces- 
sarily alarmed." 

Again  she  started,  and  the  next  moment  an  arrow  whizzed 
by  their  heads,  and  a  dark  form  arose  from  behind  the 
shadow  of  a  rock.  With  a  wild  screao  che  poor  girl  fell 
lifeless  at  his  feet.  No  time  was  to  '_>e  lost.  The  dark 
figure  was  evidently  climbing  the  cl'iJ'  from  the  bank  be- 
neath. Edgarton  raised  his  rifle  uud  fired.  The  shot  was 
effectual.  A  smothered  cry  rea/xed  his  ear,  a  crash,  and 
all  was  still. 

Clasping  the  insensible  girl  in  his  arms,  he  hastened 
from  his  exposed  position,  where  a  dozen  other  concealed 
forms  might  be  awaiting  the  opportunity  to  rush  upon 
him,  and  with  his  burden  hurried  to  the  boat. 

"  Now,  boys,  away  to  the  ship !"  he  shouted,  placing  the 
maiden  upon  some  blankets  lying  in  the  stern,  "  for  the 
girl  has  fainted,  and  your  good  captain's  wife  can  aid  me  in 
restoring  her.  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it  when  we  get  there," 
he  added,  seeing  that  they  still  hesitated ;  and  with  this 
assurance,  the  boat  was  soon  flying  rapidly  down  the  straiti 
to  the  open  waters  of  the  Jake. 


CHAPTER   XII. 
RECONCILED  TO  THE  CHANGE. 

"Great  Western  "  was  a  noble  ship  for  the  time  of 
J-  which  we  write — "  a  perfect  model  of  a  craft,"  her  good 
captain  would  fondly  say,  as  he  walked  complacently  about 
on  her  clean,  white  deck.  However  this  might  be,  it  was 
the  best  that  had  then  found  its  way  to  those  northern 
waters,  and  proved  a  very  pleasant  retreat  for  Edgarton  and 
his  young  charge  during  their  long  voyage  over  the  lakes. 
Mrs.  Mason,  the  captain's  wife,  and  an  unmarried  sister  of 
the  latter,  were  on  board,  and  to  these  two  ladies  he  dis- 
closed his  evening's  adventure,  his  former  plans  concerning 
the  poor  girl,  vrho  was  rapidly  recovering  under  their  care- 
ful attentions  and  as  many  of  his  future  wishes  in  the 
premises  as  be  felt  disposed  to  communicate.  But  bewil- 
dered as  hie  own  thoughts  were  by  the  strange  incidents 
that  had  been  crowded  into  the  last  two  hours,  he  could 
not  clearly  and  accurately  define  even  to  himself  his  pres- 
ent position,  or  his  future  course  of  action. 

Of  one  thing,  however,  he  felt  fully  assured :  before  him 
lay  the  Indian  girl,  and  in  a  few  moments  more  he  must 
commence  the  task,  not  certainly  without  a  hope  on  his 
part  of  complete  success,  of  reconciling  her  to  the  sudden 
change  in  her  career.  Would  it  really  be  a  difficult  one? 
What  if,  after  all,  she  indeed  loved  the  brave  Wehegan,  and 
would  not  become  reconciled  to  the  idea  of  leaving  him  for 
<}ver  ?  Should  he  tell  her  that  his  trusty  rifle  had  severed 
the  bond  that  once  bound  the  warrior  to  her?  All!  she 
might  hate  him  for  the  hasty  act,  and  he  for  ever  regret 
the  unpremeditated  step  he  had  taken. 

69 


TO  RECONCILED  TO  THE  CHANGE. 

Buried  in  his  unpleasant  meditations,  he  did  not  perceive 
that  her  eyes  were  open  and  fixed  with  a  wild,  inquiring 
look  upon  him,  until  one  of  his  companions,  who  had 
stepped  aside  that  the  girl  might  not  be  excited  by  the 
eight  of  a  strange  face  when  consciousness  returned,  touched 
his  shoulder  and  called  him  back  from  his  abstraction. 

"  Where  am  I  ?"  faintly  whispered  the  feeble  voice  ;  "  ol 
tell  me  where — where  am  I  ?" 

"  In  a  place  of  safety,  dear  Flora.  Can  you  not  trust 
me?" 

"I  have  had  such  a  strange  dream,"  she  murmured 
— "  such  a  strange,  strange  dream." 

"  Strange,  indeed,  no  doubt.  But  tell  me,  Flora,"  he  said, 
taking  her  hand, "  would  you  not  like  to  go  with  me  among 
my  people,  and  become  great  and  learned  and  a  fine  lady, 
as  the  governor  prophesied  you  would  some  day,  so  that  in 
a  few  years  you  may  return  to  the  island  and  help  your 
teacher  in  converting  your  people  and  making  them  so 
much  wiser  and  better  than  they  are  now  ?" 

"  No,  no,  no  1"  she  answered,  emphatically  ;  and  then,  as 
if  a  sudden  recollection  had  darted  into  her  mind,  she 
started  up  and  almost  shrieked,  "  Wehegan  !  where  is  he  ? 
Oh,  he  didn't  kill  you  ?" 

"  No,  no,  fairy !  he  did  not  even  injure  me.  I  am  beside 
you,  and  alive  and  well." 

"  Thank  God !  But  where  is  Wehegan  ?  I  must  go  to 
him.  Tell  him  I  am  his  own  Owaeta,  who  loves  only  the 
bold  warrior  to  whom  she  pledged  her  vow;"  and  she 
feebly  struggled  to  disengage  her  hand. 

"  Listen  to  me,  Flora.  You  remember  how  we  met  li 
eay  good-bye,  and  that  our  interview  was — " 

"  Oh  yes,  yes  !  I  remember  it  all,"  she  interrupted,  with 
a  shudder;  "  but  where  is  he?" 

"  You  were  lying  insensible  at  my  feet,  and  in  one  mo- 
ment more  one  of  us— perhaps  both — might  have  been 
Sacrificed  to  his  infuriated  jealousy.  Should  I  have  re- 


RECONCILED  TO  THE  CHANGE.  71 

mained  idle  and  awaited  his  further  movements,  or  should 
I  have  ensured  our  safety,  and  saved  the  life  of  both  of  us. 
by  prompt  action  ?  Which  would  you  have  wished  ?" 

"  Oh,  you  have  killed  him !  you  have  killed  him !" 

"  Perhaps  not,  Flora.  I  fired,  it  is  true,  and  he  did  nov. 
appear  again  to  molest  us,  so  I  brought  you  safely  to  the 
ship,  and  in  a  few  hours  we  shall  be  far  away  from  the 
island." 

Flora  had  turned  her  head  from  the  speaker,  and  was 
weeping  silently. 

"  Flora,  you  do  not  condemn  my  act?  Tell  me  at  least 
that  you  do  not  hate  me  for  what  I  have  done." 

"  Leave  me,  leave  me  1"  she  exclaimed,  passionately ;  "  I 
cannot  talk  to  you  now  ;"  and  Edgarton,  motioning  the  two 
ladies  to  remain  silent,  left  the  cabin  and  went  upon  deck. 

In  about  an  hour  Mrs.  Mason  informed  him  that  Flora 
had  been  conversing  freely  with  them,  and  had  expressed 
a  wish  to  see  him.  He  did  not  wait  to  hear  more,  but  hur- 
riedly descended  the  narrow  stairway  to  the  cabin.  Flora, 
looking  sad  and  dejected,  was  sitting  up  in  her  narrow 
bed. 

"  Did  I  offend  you  ?"  she  plaintively  asked,  placing  her 
hand  timidly  in  his.  "  I  did  not  intend  to  do  so.  but  I 
hardly  knew  what  I  said.  Poor  Wehegan !  Long  ago  he 
loved  the  lonely  Owaeta,  when  he  visited  our  wigwam  on 
the  mountain  side  and  brought  rare  gifts  to  me  which  he 
had  purchased  from  the  white  men,  who  often  came  to  the 
island.  It  makes  me  very  sad  when  I  think  of  him,  but 
I  did  not  mean  to  offend  you." 

"  You  have  not,  fairy ;  do  not  think  of  it.  I  am  glad  thai 
you  are  better,1'  he  said,  cheerfully,  wishing  to  change  the 
current  of  her  thoughts;  "and  we  shall  be  very  happy. 
I  must  go  and  write  a  letter  to  your  teacher,  to  be  sent 
back  by  the  first  opportunity,  and  you  must  go  to  sleep, 
for  you  need  rest.  To-morrow  I  will  tell  you  my  plans  for 
your  happiness  and  improvement."  So  saying,  he  play- 


72  RECONCILED  TO  THE  CHANGE. 

fuJly  laid  her  back  upon  the  pillow,  smiling  encouragingly 
as  he  bade  her  good-night  and  left  her. 

It  was  nearly  midnight  when  he  sought  his  berth  to  rest, 
but  not  to  sleep.  The  wind  had  just  risen  to  a  brisk,  lively 
breeze,  and  all  hands  were  on  deck,  spreading  the  canvas 
to  catch  it.  The  sound  of  hurrying  footsteps  overhead  and 
"the  turmoil  of  his  own  troubled  thoughts  drove  slumber 
from  his  pillow,  and  before  the  sun  had  looked  up  again 
from  beneath  the  waves  he  stood  upon  the  deck,  bathing 
his  uncovered  head  in  the  cool  morning  air,  and  looking 
back  upon  the  broad  lake's  expanse  over  which  they  were 
leisurely  sailing. 

"Changing,  ever  changing,"  he  murmured.  "Ah,  who 
can  contemplate  the  myriad  changes  through  which  we  are 
ceaselessly  hurried  with  the  speed  of  thought  ? 

"'Laughing  in  the  sunlight, 

Bounding  o'er  the  billow, 
Sporting  on  the  wavelet, 

Weeping  'neath  the  willow, 
Dashing  down  the  streamlet 

Where  the  rapids  roar, 
Mooring  'neath  the  shadow 

Of  a  rocky  shore, 
Climbing  up  the  mountain, 

Gliding  through  the  glen, 
Sighing  at  the  fountain 

Bubbling  in  our  ken, 
Looking  at  the  future 

With  a  hazy  eye, 
Hurrying  through  the  present 

With  a  mournful  sigh, 
Mingling  clouds  and  sunshine 

In  a  daily  strife, — 
Bless  me,  these  are  changes 

On  the  road  of  life !'  " 

Not  caring  to  accompany  the  travelers  day  by  day  in 
their  protracted  and  wearisome  journey,  we  will  merely 


RECONCILED  TO  THE  CHANGE.  73 

take  a  peep  into  their  little  saloon,  a  few  hours  before  the 
completion  of  their  voyage.  Flora  looks  more  beautiful 
than  ever  in  her  chintz  wrapper,  which  has  kindly  been 
provided  for  her,  and  her  face  lights  up  with  an  inex- 
pressible pleasure,  as  picture  after  picture  of  her  future  is 
held  up  to  her  wondering  gaze  by  those  around. 

"We  will  make  your  stay  at  Buffalo  a  very  pleasant 
one,"  said  Mrs.  Mason,  "  and  I  will  see  that  everything  is 
provided  for  your  wardrobe  which  any  young  lady  could 
desire." 

"  Everything,"  echoed  Edgarton ;  "  my  little  protig'e  shall 
not  shine  a  lesser  star  in  the  bright  galaxy  of  beauty  and 
fashion  collected  at  Mrs.  Willard's  school." 

"  Oh,  you  will  spoil  me  with  vanity,"  exclaimed  Flora, 
smiling  and  raising  her  hand  deprecatingly. 

"Ha,  ha,  ha!  I  only  wish  it  were  I,"  said  the  lively 
Miss  Eastman.  "I  would  not  look  so  distressed  at  such 
a  glowing  prospect,  I  can  assure  you." 

"  I  am  not  distressed,"  interrupted  Flora — "  indeed,  I  am 
very  happy ;  only  I  shall  not  always  remember  that  I  am 
of  French  descent  and  an  orphan  prot'eg'e  of  Sir  Edgarton, 
and  that  my  name  is  Flora  Hawes,  instead  of  simple 
Owaeta,  the  Indian  girl,"  she  said,  laughing. 

"  Oh,  you  sweet  novice !"  replied  Edgarton,  enthusiasti- 
cally. "  But  you  will  soon  learn  the  power  of  my  lessons, 
and  thank  me  for  them,  too.  This  world  is  easily  wheedled 
by  high-sounding  words,  and  a  titled  name,  my  child,  is  a 
fine  lubricator  for  aristocratic  knees.  Ha,  ha !  How  I  have 
seen  heads  bowing,  and  hats  making  all  sorts  of  obsequious 
movements  in  the  air,  when  a  whisper  reached  astonished 
ears  that  in  my  father's  land  the  honored  title  of  '  Lord ' 
awaited  me!  I  tell  you,  fairy,  a  few  famed  ones  can  well 
afford  to  put  their  talents  in  a  napkin,  and  bury  them  too, 
for  the  matter  of  that,  for  they  will  get  along  just  as  well 
without  them.  Wealth  and  position  supply  all  difficulties 
in  worth  or  intellect.  Isn't  it  so,  captain  ?" 
I 


74  RECONCILED  TO  THL  CHANGE. 

"  Just  so,  sir.  There  is  my  wife — handsome,  talented  and 
good.  No  need  of  her  marrying  a  poor  old  sailor  like  my- 
eelf  if  she  hadn't  been  poor.  No,  no;  poverty  has  been 
my  blessing,  you  see,  sir.  So,  of  course,  I  am  the  old  fel- 
low's friend;  but  it's  true  as  preaching,  every  word  you 
say,  though." 

All  joined  merrily  in  the  laugh,  and  Flora  darted  up  on 
deck  to  watch  the  land  that  lay  a  few  miles  before  them 
broad,  dark  belt  upon  the  water. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 
RECEPTION  AT  PLEASANT  COTTAGE. 

IN  a  pleasantly  shaded  street  of  a  beautiful  city  that 
stretches  itself  along  the  banks  of  the  noble  Hudson 
stands  a  neat  white  cottage,  two  stories  high,  with  a  smooth 
green  lawn  in  front,  dotted  with  numerous  hardy  shrubs, 
and  overshadowed  by  tall,  widespreading  maples,  where 
the  birds  sing  their  cheerful  songs  through  all  the  long 
summer  days,  and  the  winds  chant  their  low,  sad  music 
when  the  branches  are  bare  and  the  leaves  are  withered  by 
the  frost  king's  breath,  and  lie  scattered  and  faded  upon 
the  pitying  earth. 

Often  has  the  humble  laborer,  on  his  way  to  the  busy 
thoroughfare  where  his  daily  toils,  were  to  commence, 
stopped  before  this  quiet  little  cottage  and  sighed  for  such 
a  home,  where  he  might  be  sure  his  unsatisfied  desires 
might  be  fully  realized. 

Upon  the  silver  plate,  on  the  outer  door,  is  engraved  in 
very  black  letters  the  name  of  u  E.  \V.  Edwards,"  which 
serves  as  a  stereotyped  introduction  of  the  gentlemanly 
proprietor  of  the  establishment  to  the  bustling  world  out- 
side, and  few  there  were  who  knew  more  of  him  than  the 
passer-by  could  learn  by  this  simple  announcement.  Ye 
nearly  twelve  years  before,  he  had  left  his  native  land  wit 
his  small  family  and  the  remnant  of  his  once  ample  fortune, 
and  after  a  few  months'  tarry  in  New  York  had  taken  up 
his  abode  here,  isolating  himself  from  society,  and  seeking 
the  communion  or  friendship  of  none.  None,  therefore, 
cared  to  intrude  themselves  upon  him. 

It  was  a  chill  evening  in  early  autumn,  and  the  family 

ri 


76  RECEPTION  AT  PLEASANT  COTTAGE. 

were  gathered  around  a  glowing  fire  that  was  crackling  on 
the  hearth  in  the  little  back  parlor,  its  flickering  light 
throwing  over  the  antique  furniture  an  air  of  comfort,  and 
even  of  luxury.  A  small  round  table  was  drawn  up  in 
front,  upon  which  stood  a  large  oil  lamp,  whose  lesser  light 
was  almost  lost  in  the  bright  glow  which  filled  the  apart- 
ment. 

Five  persons  occupied  the  rooms,  some  reading,  others 
eewing,  but  one,  with  his  elbow  resting  upon  the  table  and 
head  averted,  seemed  busily  engaged  in  marking  the  prog- 
ress of  a  few  half-benumbed  flies  that  were  lazily  crawling 
over  the  ceiling  with  a  low,  fitful  hum  of  satisfaction  as  the 
heat  from  below  warmed  and  reanimated  them.  That  face 
was  not  generally  pleasing  to  look  upon,  but  to-night  an 
unusual  acidity  was  impressed  into  his  sharp,  prominent 
features,  almost  changing  his  blue  eye  into  a  deep  restless 
gray.  Opposite,  busily  engaged  with  her  needle,  sat  the 
wife  and  mother,  whose  locks,  like  those  of  her  husband, 
were  bleached  by  the  storms  and  sunshine  of  many  years, 
and  whose  face  bore  the  lines  which  Time's  fingers  had 
registered  upon  it ;  still,  her  aquiline  nose  and  her  tightly 
compressed  lips  showed  that  a  cord  of  sympathy  and  con- 
geniality united  those  two  aged  hearts  in  a  strong  bond  of 
affinity.  Two  daughters  and  a  son,  their  only  children, 
still  remained  with  them.  The  eldest,  "  Lena,"  had  been 
very  pretty.  Her  eyes  were  large  and  bewitchingly  bine ; 
her  flaxen  hair  fell  in  rich  glossy  curls  about  a  finely 
moulded  head  and  neck,  overshadowing  features  indisput- 
ably regular  and  well  portrayed,  but  the  roses  were  fad  in; 
upon  her  cheek,  and  the  freshness  and  bloom  of  youth  had 
departed  from  lips  and  brow,  leaving  behind  the  disfiguring 
Bears  of  discontent  and  mortification.  Why  Miss  Lena  had 
never  been  a  belle,  and  long  before  this  the  honored  mis- 
tress of  a  coach-and-four,  was  beyond  her  comprehension. 
But,  disappointed  as  she  evidently  was,  hope  had  not  yet 
forsaken  her.  "She  would  yet  fill  the  prominent  position 


RECEPTION  AT  PLEASANT  COTTAGE.  77 

in  life  for  which  her  beauty  and  ancestral  connections  had 
so  fulty  fitted  her." 

E.  W.  Edwards,  Jr.,  was  some  years  younger  than  Lena, 
with  a  fine  person,  good  features,  and,  as  he  asserted,  "  an 
excellent  appreciation  of  his  talents  and  superiority  over 
those  with  whom  he  unwittingly  mingled  day  by  day  in  a 
business  relation,  not  because  circumstances  demanded  it, 
but  from  a  philanthropic  desire  to  benefit  his  race.  Great 
men  of  all  ages  had  done  this  before  him,  and  it  was  right 
that  he  should  descend  from  the  lofty  pedestal  upon  which 
his  lineage  had  placed  him,  and  follow  their  humane  exam- 
ple." Therefore,  three  years  before,  E.  W.  Edwards,  Jr.,  had 
entered  as  under-clerk  the  extensive  establishment  of  V.  & 
D.  Morvin,  where  every  day  he  wasted  his  mighty  powers 
upon  unnumbered  rolls  of  tape  and  lofty  pyramids  of  calico> 
"  warranted  fast  colors,"  which  it  was  his  duty  to  display  to 
the  gaze  of  admiring  purchasers. 

There  was  one  other  member  of  that  family  circle  thus 
grouped  on  that  chill  autumnal  eve.  This  was  a  girl  of  six- 
teen, with  bright  yellow  hair  and  complexion  of  sallow  hue, 
small  gray  eyes,  a  nose  sharp  and  pointed,  a  mouth  unusu- 
ally large,  and  seemingly  altogether  out  of  place  on  a  face 
BO  small ;  but  the  lips  were  full,  and  were  it  not  for  the 
traces  of  sadness  that  lingered  upon  them,  hiding  the  smile 
with  which  nature  had  adorned  them,  a  connoisseur  would 
have  pronounced  it,  in  spite  of  its  proportions,  rather  pretty. 

But  Phelura — or  "  Fury,"  as  she  was  called  by  every  mem- 
ber of  the  family — was  a  "fright."  Who  could  doubt  it? 
Not  the  unhappy  girl  herself,  assuredly ;  for  it  was  the  lesson 
which  she  had  learned  in  her  earliest  years,  and  from  its 
constant  repetition  thenceforward  she  was  not  likely  to  for- 
get it  or  become  unconscious  of  the  fact.  She  was  sitting 
upon  a  low  ottoman  by  the  fire,  with  a  book  upon  her  lap. 
She  had  been  reading,  but  her  mind  had  wandered  away 
from  the  pages  before  her,  and  now  she  sat  looking  dreamily 
into  the  smouldering  embers  upon  the  hearth. 
T» 


78  RECEPTION  AT  PLEASANT  COTTAGE. 

"  To-morrow  ?"  exclaimed  Lena,  passionately.     "  Indeed 
Em~  are  it?  The  more  I  think  of  it,  the  more  out  of  patience 
I  become.    Why  didn't  you  say  positively  you  would  not 
take  her?" 

This  question  was  addressed  to  the  mother,  who  was  sit- 
ting near  her.  She  said  nothing  in  reply — did  not  even  look 
up — but  kept  on  stitching,  stitching,  as  before. 

The  father,  however,  replied,  nervously  hitching  upon  his 
chair,  "  We  had  our  reasons,  child,  and  it  does  not  become 
you  to  question  them."  This  was  spoken  imperiously,  and 
for  a  few  moments  Miss  Lena  remained  silent. 

"  Reasons !"  she  at  last  muttered  between  her  teeth — "  rea- 
sons !  I  can  see  a  score  of  reasons  why  she  ought  to  have 
sunk  in  the  lake  instead  of  being  thrust  in  here,  where  she 
is  not  wanted.  She'll  wish  she  had  been,  too,  before  she 
has  been  here  six  months,  or  I  have  no  English  blood  in 
my  veins,  that's  all !" 

The  small  gray  eyes  were  quietly  raised  from  the  dying 
embers  and  fixed  upon  the  speaker.  A  new  light  seemed 
flashing  up  from  their  hidden  depths,  but  it  was  smothered, 
and  in  a  moment  more  the  eager  look  had  wandered  back 
to  its  former  resting-place. 

"  You  heard  the  command  I  gave  you  ?"  asked  the  mother, 
quickly. 

"Yes." 

"  Be  very  guarded  in  the  exhibition  of  yourself  before  Sir 
Charles,  while  he  remains  with  us.  After  he  has  gone  we 
will  talk  more  openly  on  the  subject." 

"  How  long  is  he  to  honor  us,  mother?" 

"  He  did  not  say." 

"  Humph  1  as  long  as  he  chooses,  I  suppose." 
*  "  As  long  as  we  choose,"  replied  the  father,  sternly. 

A  few  moments  of  silence,  and  Lena  with  great  bustle 
arose  and  left  the  room. 

"  Sis  seems  quite  infuriated,"  said  the  young  man,  lan- 
guidly. "I  suppose  she  did  not  like  the  clause  in  hex 


RECEPTION  AT  PLEASANT  COTTAGE.  79 

nonored  cousin's  letter  describing  the  beauty  of  his  fair 
protege.  A  rival  certainly  would  be  unpleasant,  although  I 
know  nothing  of  it  by  personal  experience." 

Here  the  superior  personage  ran  his  taper  fingers  through 
his  abundant  locks,  which  were  certainly  quite  too  light  for 
nuburn,  smoothed  his  chin,  and  proceeded  : 
T  '  For  my  part,  I  rather  like  the  idea  of  her  coming.  A 
poor  unsophisticated  orphan  that  has  been  reared  in  seclu- 
sion can  be  greatly  benefited  in  our  family,  and  in  the  circle 
in  which  we  move ;  and  it  is  no  doubt  our  duty  to  do  what 
little  good  we  can  in  the  world." 

"  Undoubtedly,"  replied  the  father,  sneeringly ;  and  soon 
after  this  closing  argument  the  family  adjourned  for  the 
night. 

It  was  late  in  the  succeeding  afternoon  that  the  heavy, 
lumbering  stage,  with  its  four  lank,  lean,  spavined  horses, 
turned  the  corner  from  Congress  street  into  Third,  and  drew 
up,  with  an  evident  attempt  at  display,  before  the  neat  white 
cottage  alluded  to.  The  door  of  the  coach  was  opened,  and 
two  travelers — a  gentleman  and  lady  richly  but  plainly 
attired — alighted  and  stood  upon  the  pavement.  When  the 
trunks  had  all  been  handed  down  and  deposited  bt-side 
them,  they  entered  the  gate  and  proceeded  toward  the 
house. 

"  No  one  to  welcome  us,"  remarked  the  gentleman,  as  he 
ascended  the  steps  and  rang  the  bell.  "  I  think  they  must 
have  forgotten  we  were  coming  to-day." 

The  summons  was  speedily  answered  by  a  shabby,  red- 
faced,  red-haired  Irish  girl,  who  greeted  them  with  a  good- 
natured  look  and  ushered  them  into  the  parlor,  where  a 
brisk  fire  was  blazing  a  cheerful  welcome.  The  door  through 
which  they  had  entered  was  very  soon  opened,  and  Mrs. 
Edwards,  tall  and  stately  and  most  imposingly  attired,  stood 
before  them. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Sir  Charles,"  she  began,  with  great 
dignity,  as  she  extended  her  hand,  "  but  the  stage  arrived 


80  RECEPTION  AT  PLEASANT  COTTAGE. 

much  earlier  than  usual  to-night,  and  we  were  not  expecting 
you  for  a  half-hour  at  least." 

Edgarton  assured  her  that  their  reception  needed  no 
apology,  and  then  presented  Miss  Hawes,  his  orphan  protege. 
Flora  almost  shrank  from  the  cold  touch,  and  the  more  chill- 
ing scrutiny  of  those  icy  gray  eyes  which  seemed  riveted 
Upon  her. 

"  I  hope  you  will  be  very  happy  with  us,"  Mrs.  Edwards 
remarked,  stiffly  bowing;  then,  turning  to  Edgarton,  she 
continued,  with  a  bland  smile,  "  Your  friend  is  older  than 
I  was  led  to  suppose." 

"  Just  the  age  I  mentioned,"  he  replied,  quickly. 

Further  conversation  was  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of 
the  other  members  of  the  family,  when  several  presentations 
passed  off  with  freezing  ceremony.  No,  there  was  one 
who  shrank  away  from  this  formal  exhibition  of  a  selfish 
politeness,  and  sat  in  the  solitude  of  her  own  room  and 
wept. 

Poor  child !  She  murmured  through  her  tears, "  We  shall 
both  be  unhappy.  Oh,  if  she  would  let  me  be  her  friend  I 
But  no,  she  will  shrink  from  me,  and  very  soon  will  learn 
to  call  me  '  Fury.'  Oh  how  I  hate  that  word,  and  how  I 
hate  every  one  that  speaks  it !  Yes ;  I  hate — why  shouldn't 
I  ?  and  I  shall  hate  her !  Ah,  there's  the  tea-bell ;  but  111 
not  go  down.  Nobody  will  inquire  for  me." 

And  in  a  paroxysm  of  grief,  the  unhappy  girl  threw 
herself  upon  the  bed,  and  sobbed  more  bitterly  than  before. 
She  was  mistaken,  however ;  Edgarton  did  inquire  for  the 
absent  one,  as  they  gathered  around  the  table. 

"  She  does  not  care  to  come,  I  suppose,"  replied  Lena, 
evasively,  and  his  former  suspicions  concerning  her  were 
thoroughly  sustained.  He  had  read  much  in  that  plain, 
sad  face  during  his  former  visit  to  the  cottage,  and  a  feeling 
of  sympathy  had  been  awakened  within  him. 

The  supper  passed  off  more  pleasantly  than  might  have 
been  expected.  Mr.  Edwards,  Sr.,  partially  stepped  out  of 


RECEPTION  AT  PLEASANT  CCTTAGE.  81 

his  reserve,  throwing  aside  his  cynic  frown,  and  donning  in 
its  stead  an  awkward  mask  of  smiles,  which  seemed  in 
strange  keeping  with  his  sharp,  iron  features  ;  his  wife,  ever 
reflecting  his  shadow,  caught  the  contagious  influence  of  his 
urbanity,  and  smiled  too;  the  junior  Edwards  stroked  his 
chin  caressingly,  and  made  many  fine  speeches  upon  his  pet 
topics  of  condescension  and  philanthropy ;  while  Miss  Lena 
tossed  her  pretty  curls  quite  becomingly,  and  laughed 
heartily  at  the  pleasing  bon  mots  of  their  honored  guest,  who 
was  evidently  exerting  himself  to  be  unusually  entertaining 
Flora  was  silent,  though  joining  occasionally  in  the  merry 
laugh,  and  her  face  wore  an  expression  of  sadness  which 
she  was  very  glad  to  attribute  to  weariness  from  her  long 
journey.  Her  quick  glance  had  penetrated  the  thin  guise  of 
assumed  affability  with  which  they  had  been  welcomed  and 
entertained,  and  the  casual  glimpse  had  given  her  a  peep 
into  the  future  from  which  her  sensitive  nature  shrank  back 
with  ominous  forebodings. 

The  travelers,  pleading  fatigue,  retired  at  an  early  hour, 
and  Flora,  after  dismissing  Miss  Lena,  who  expressed  the 
hope  that  she  would  do  her  the  honor  of  accepting  her  ser- 
vices whenever  she  might  require  them,  threw  herself  upon 
her  knees,  and  for  a  long  time  remained  motionless  and 
Bilent.  Did  she  pray?  Her  lips  moved  not,  and  words 
found  no  form  in  the  humble  supplication  that  went  up 
from  that  fondly-trusting  heart,  as  the  smoke  of  sweet-burn- 
ing incense  from  the  altar  of  prophetic  faith.  Yet  God 
heard  it;  the  unspoken  petition  of  a  trembling  child  reached 
the  Father's  ear,  and  he  comforted  her.  Blessed  influence, 
that  reaches  from  earth  to  heaven,  on  which  our  wants 
ascend,  and  sweet  answers  of  peace  are  Bent  down  to  cheer 
the  lonely  wanderer ! 

The  sun  was  peeping  in  at  the  closed  windows  the  next 
morning  before  Flora  awoke  from  her  refreshing  slumber. 
Hurriedly  arising,  she  had  nearly  finished  her  morning 
toilet,  when  the  door  opened  and  a  stranger  approached. 


82  RECEPTION  AT  PLEASANT  COTTAGE. 

"  Do  not  be  afraid  of  me,"  the  visitor  said,  almost  in  a 
whisper ;  "  I  know  I  am  a  fright,  and  I  wanted  to  see  you 
alone  first,  that  they  should  not  witness  your  surprise  aa 
you  looked  upon  me." 

Flora's  heart  was  touched.  She  had  never  listened  to 
such  a  wail  of  dejection,  and  she  stepped  forward,  clasped 
the  little  cold  hand  in  her  own,  as  she  said, 

"  You  are  not  a  fright  j  who  could  be  so  cruel  as  to  tel] 
you  so  ?" 

"  Oh  yes,  I  am,"  she  answered,  with  a  faint  smile;  "  I  know 
I  am  dreadfully  ugly,  and  that  you  are  the  most  beautiful 
creature  I  ever  saw." 

"  Then  I  wish  I  could  divide  looks  with  you — equalize 
this  beauty  in  some  way.  I  do  not  want  to  be  so  very 
beautiful.  Neither  extreme  can  bring  happiness." 

"  Would  you  give  me  some  of  your  beauty  if  you  could  ?" 
inquired  the  astonished  girl,  eagerly. 

"  Most  certainly  I  would." 

'  Then  I  will  tell  you  how  you  can  take  away  a  portion 
of  my  ugliness,  if  you  will." 

"  Tell  me,"  said  Flora ;  u  I  shall  be  more  than  happy  to 
gratify  you." 

"Be  my  friend;  let  me  love  you.  It  is  hatred  that 
doubles  my  ugliness  —  yes,  hate!"  she  almost  hissed 
through  her  closed  teeth.  "They  hate  me,"  she  con- 
tinued, pointing  to  the  door,  "  and  I  pay  them  back  in 
their  own  coin,  that's  all.  But  there's  love  in  my  heart, 
almost  enough  to  quench  the  burning  fires  which  are  con- 
§uming  me,  if  I  could  find  some  one  to  unseal  the  closed 
fountain  and  call  it  forth." 

"  Let  me,  then,  perform  that  pleasing  office,"  said  Flora, 
throwing  her  arms  about  the  neck  of  the  agitated  girl. 
"  Oh,  it  will  make  me  so  happy  to  do  you  good." 

"  God  bless  you  !  God  bless  you !"  she  murmured,  rever- 
ently and  slowly.  "  But  one  thing  more  I  want  to  ask  of 
you.  Pardon  me  if  I  am  troublesome,  but  do  not  call  me 


RECEPTION  AT  PLEASANT  COTTAGE.  83 

Fury  ;'  it  makes  me  wicked,  and  kills  every  good  desire  or 
wish  in  iny  heart." 

"  Be  sure  I  will  not.  But  what  is  your  name  ?  and  why 
do  they  call  you  by  such  an  ugly  one  ?" 

"  Because  they  say  it  becomes  me.  But  my  name  is 
Phelura — horrid  enough  in  itself,  but  worse  in  its  abbrevia- 
tion." 

"  Phelura?  It  is  not  such  a  horrid  name,  but  very  odd. 
How  would  you  like  to  be  called  Lura  ?  I  shall  not  feel 
that  we  are  dear  friends  if  I  must  always  call  you  Phelura, 
and  then  I  love  pet  names.  Shall  I  call  you  Lura  ?" 

"  Oh  yes,  that  will  do." 

A  slight  tap  -at  the  door  was  heard,  and  Miss  Lena  en- 
tered with  a  smiling  "  good-morning  "  upon  her  lips.  She 
started,  as  she  saw  her  sister,  and  a  frown  drove  the  smile 
away. 

"  Ah !  you  choose  to  seek  a  private  interview  and  per- 
form your  own  presentation  ?" 

"  We  have  had  a  very  pleasant  time,"  interrupted  Flora, 
"  and  she  has  curled  my  hair  nicely.  I  think  I  must  get 
her  to  do  it  every  morning." 

"  Very  well,  if  she  can  be  of  service  to  you.  But  our 
breakfast  is  ready,  and  Sir  Charles  has  inquired  for 
you." 

They  descended  to  the  little  parlor,  and  Flora's  new  life 
in  her  present  sphere  had  already  commenced.  Changing 
scenes  were  before  her,  and  through  the  kaleidoscope  of  her 
fertile  imagination  she  beheld  their  varying  hues,  and  won- 
dered. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 
THE  ANTICIPATED  SEPARATION. 

A  MONTH  of  pleasure.  How  soon,  alas!  how  very 
soon,  it  passes  away,  and  leaves  behind  it,  when  one 
mingles  again  in  the  stern  realities  of  life,  many  sad  regrets 
and  many  aching  voids  that  memory  cannot  fill !  Many 
bright  flowers  bloom  to  gladden  us  along  our  toilsome 
pathway,  and  many  golden  hours  that  are  scattered  like 
glittering  gems  along  our  shadowed  past,  upon  whose 
gentle  glow  beams  the  faithful  promise,  "Lo!  I  am  with 
you  always,  even  to  the  end."  Yet  the  faint  heart  droops 
when  the  sweet  flowers  fade  and  wither,  and  weary  eyes 
grow  dim  gazing  with  anxious  longing  back  upon  departed 
brightness. 

Flora  could  scarcely  realize  that  four  weeks  had  actually 
passed  since  her  arrival  at  the  cottage,  yet  facts  abundantly 
proved  that  they  were  gone — two  weeks  in  New  York  and 
vicinity,  accompanied  by  Edgarton,  Miss  Lena  and  her 
brother,  as  chaperon;  one  week  devoted  to  reconnoitring 
and  exploring  the  environs  of  their  own  pleasant  city ;  and 
the  last,  where  had  it  gone  ?  A  trip  to  Albany,  one  day 
spent  upon  the  island,  a  fishing  excursion,  a  picnic,  two 
rainy  days  spent  with  Edgarton  in  the  cheerful  little  front 
parlor,  talking  of  their  future  and  his  journey  home,  where 
he  would  spend  four  years,  then  return  to  find  her  changed, 
but  ever  remaining  his  own  good  fairy. 

To-morrow  she  would  be  presented  to  Mrs.  "Willard 
Oh,  how  her  heart  throbbed  at  the  thought!  'Yet  she 
would  be  valiant.  For  his  sake  she  would  do  more  than 
ever  pupil  accomplished  before.  Yes,  she  would  be  all  he 
wished. 

M 


THE  ANTICIPATED  SEPARATION.  85 

Slowly  the  red  leaves  were  falling  one  by  one  from  the 
Variegated  maples  that  bordered  the  lawn;  chill  autumn 
winds  were  abroad,  scattering  death  upon  the  land,  and 
trees  and  shrubs  and  the  bright  green  grass  had  felt  his 
withering  touch,  and  were  drooping,  dying. 

"Soon  Winter,  with  his  bustling  train 

Of  wind  and  snow  and  hail  and  rain, 

Would  come,  and  with  his  icy  hand 

Seal  up  the  grave  of  the  faded  land, 

And  spread  the  pall  of  snow  and  sleet, 

And  wrap  the  earth  in  a  winding  sheet. 

Then  will  the  passing  whisper  say, 
'  Beauties  of  earth,  ye  have  passed  away.' " 

But  what  should  Flora  care  for  all  these  ?  Before  her  lay 
the  goal  for  which  she  was  to  strive — his  pleasure,  his  appro- 
bation— and  all  things  else  would  be  forgotten.  Foolish 
heart !  How  little  it  understands  the  source  from  which  it 
draws  its  strength  and  support !  Like  the  tender  young 
vine,  it  is  continually  reaching  forth  with  its  frail  tendrils 
for  something  to  which  to  cling.  And  oh  how  often  it 
clasps  some  broken  reed  or  passing  shrub !  and  the  first  ad- 
verse wind  snaps  the  frail  support,  or  it  withers  and  dies 
from  an  uncongenial  and  contaminating  alliance. 

Flora  was  standing  alone  by  the  parlor  window,  looking 
out  upon  the  faded  lawn  and  the  gorgeous  leaves  that 
slowly  followed  each  other  in  their  mute  dance  to  the  earth, 
gayly  decked  for  the  grave  and  decay.  She  had  turned 
from  the  future,  with  its  glowing  dreams  and  pleasing  pic- 
tures, only  tinted  here  and  there  with  a  sombre  shade  to 
make  the  scene  more  enchanting,  which  Edgarton  had 
hung  all  along  the  gallery  of  Time  through  which  she  was 
to  pass,  and  she  was  once  more  living  in  the  scenes  of  her 
childhood's  days.  Ah  !  she  was  happy  then,  the  poor  lit- 
tle Indian  girl,  free  and  wild  as  the  deer  of  her  own  native 
hills,  skipping  over  the  woodland  before  the  birds  were 
awake  with  their  matin  songs,  and  returning  to  that  rude 
I 


8«  3773S:  ANTICIPATED  SEPARATION. 

home  laden  with  the  rich  trophies  of  the  forest  fruits  and 
flowers  for  her  aged  mother.  And  then  Wehegan — the  bold, 
brave  warrior  who  had  so  often  called  her  "  his  own  Owaeta  " 
— did  he  yet  live  ?  A  slender  arrow  of  hickory  which  his 
own  hand  had  made  he  had  given  her  at  their  last  parting. 
This  she  still  retained,  and  tears  filled  her  eyes  at  the 
thought  that  the  hand  which  fashioned  it  was  motionless 
and  cold. 

A  stealthy  step  approached,  and  then  a  hand  gently 
pressed  each  cheek,  as  Edgarton  whispered, 

"There  are  dew-drops  upon  these  roses,  fairy.  What 
means  it?  Not  withering,  I  hope,  in  an  uncongenial 
clime?" 

"  Flowers  soon  fade  without  the  rain-drops  and  the  'lew. 
But  you  are  an  intruder,  to  steal  so  silently  in  upon  my 
secret  reverie." 

"It  may  be,  fairy,  but  I  am  forgiven — I  see  pardon 
written  all  over  your  beaming  face;  and  now  I  want  to 
know  what  makes  you  sad," 

"  Can  I  not  have  the  privilege  of  shedding  one  tear  in 
the  anticipation  of  your  departure?  or  must  I  clap  my 
hands  in  glee  at  those  long  four  years  that  keep  staring  at 
me  from  the  impenetrable  darkness  of  the  future?" 

"  Fairy,  fairy,  you  astonish  me.  It  is  true  you  are  not  a 
child—" 

"  Nor  an  Egyptian  mummy  just  disentombed,"  said  Flora. 

"  Well,  what  afe  you,  then  ?  For  my  part,  I  can't  make 
you  out ;  you  puzzle  me !" 

"  So  did  Benicia  puzzle  the  noble  Horatio.  I  am  not  the 
first  to  do  such  a  wicked  thing.  Wait  until  your  return 
after  those  four  long  years  have  dragged  themselves  away. 
I'erh  aps — perhaps — " 

"  Perhaps  what,  fairy  ?" 

"  Perhaps  I  shall  be  more  civilized,  and  you  can  under* 
itand  me  better,"  said  Flora. 

"  More  civilized,  indeed !    Why,  fairy,  I  have  iiad  many 


THE  ANTICIPATED  SEPARATION.  87 

doubts  about  the  possibility  of  educating  or  improving  you, 
since  I  have  been  daily  with  you." 

"  And  have  concluded  to  send  me  back  to  the  island  ?" 
she  asked,  with  provoking  seriousness, 

"Oh  ho!  the  sun  shines  brilliantly  after  the  shower. 
But  I'  do  not  so  readily  give  up  the  work  of  civilization 
of  which  you  just  spoke,  and  shall  impatiently  wait  for 
those  four .  crawling  years  to  get  out  of  the  way,  that  I1 
may  return  and  behold  the  great  work  for  myself.  In  the 
meantime,  I  can  judge  somewhat  of  its  progress  by  those 
promised  letters  which  I  shall  receive  every  few  weeks." 

"  Oh,  you  don't  know  how  it  makes  me  shudder  to  think 
of  standing  before  that  stiff,  black  satin  dress  to-morrow ; 
and  then  to  be  introduced  to  all  those  rude  laughing  girls 
who  walk  past  here  every  Wednesday  and  Saturday  after- 
noon !" 

"  Fie,  fairy !  That  will  soon  be  over,  and  then  you  will 
have  so  many  dear  friends  in  the  school  that  I  shall  very 
soon  be  forgotten.  There  is  the  dinner-bell.  Tell  me,  fairy, 
how  you  like  your  friends  here.  Do  you  think  you  shall 
be  very  happy  with  them?" 

"  Oh  yes,  if  Miss  Lena  does  not  overpower  me  with  a  too 
frequent  repetition  of  her  former  grandeur  and  her  present 
beauty  and  position,  or  E.  W.  annihilate  me  by  his  '  great 
light,' "  she  replied,  laughing  heartily.  "  But  there  is  one 
for  whom  I  entertain  an  abiding  affection  or  pity — I  can 
hardly  tell  which — but  whose  society  I  am  sure  will  be  a 
great  comfort  to  me,  and  that  is  poor  Lura.  She  seems  so 
unhappy  at  all  times,  except  when  we  are  alone ;  then  her 
whole  face  is  changed.  I  have  really  thought  her  quite 
good-looking  more  than  once." 

"  I  am  very  glad  that  you  have  taken  an  interest  in  the 
poor  girl,  and  really  hope  that  the  good  you  bestow  upon 
her  may  return  fourfold  upon  yourself.  But  we  must 
answer  that  summons  to  dinner,  or  we  shall  receive  one 
from  Miss  Lena  in  p^oprid  persond." 


88  THE  ANTICIPATED  SEPARATION. 

The  trials  of  the  next  day  were  encountered  by  Flora 
with  much  less  of  discomfort  than  she  had  imagined.  The 
kind  words  and  gentle  assurances  of  Mrs.  Willard,  who  was 
always  affable  and  pleasing  to  the  young,  inspired  her  with 
great  confidence;  and  when,  at  last,  she  was  ushered  by  the 
lady  herself  into  the  examination  room  upon  the  first  floor, 
where  over  two  hundred  young  ladies  of  various  ages  and 
sizes  were  gathered  for  the  semi-weekly  exercises,  she  met 
their  curious  gaze  with  a  slight  tremor  and  downcast  eyes. 
There  were  a  few  whispers  near  her,  one  or  two  of  which 
reached  her  ears.  "She  is  beautiful,"  said  one  directly 
behind  her.  "Too  dark,"  said  her  companion;  then  an 
inaudible  murmur,  a  low,  subdued  laugh,  and  they  were 
silent,  for  Mrs.  Willard's  eyes  were  upon  them,  and  in  a 
mild  voice  she  was  giving  the  school  generally  a  few  simple 
rules  of  conduct  to  be  observed  at  all  times  upon  the 
entrance  of  a  new  pupil  among  them. 

A  prayer  closed  the  exercises,  and  Flora,  greatly  strength- 
ened for  her  future,  but  not  altogether  free  from  discordant 
feelings,  returned  to  the  cottage  with  Edgarton,  who  had 
waited  in  the  parlor  until  the  ceremony  of  introduction 
should  be  over.  A  sensitive  chord  had  been  touched  by 
words  not  intended  for  her  ear,  and  it  would  continue  to 
vibrate  long  after  her  head  rested  upon  her  pillow.  But 
sleep  came  at  last  and  stilled  its  restless  motion,  throwing 
over  her  exciting  present  the  mantle  of  forgetfulness  and 
repose. 


CHAPTER  XV. 
THE  KEEPSAKE. 

"  "VTOU  know  not  how  much  pain  this  separation  gives 

JL  me.  I  have  so  long  looked  upon  you  as  the  good 
fairy  whose  magic  wand  could  turn  the  wheels  of  my  des- 
tiny away  from  every  ill  and  change  all  my  sadness  into 
joy  that  I  begin  to  realize  how  very  much  I  shall  miss 
you." 

It  was  their  last  farewell,  and  Flora,  too,  understood  how 
dreary  her  days  would  be  without  that  cheering  voice,  those 
gentle  words  with  which  he  always  greeted  her,  and,  more 
than  all,  without  any  one  to  love  her  and  call  her  names  of 
endearing  tenderness.  They  were  alone,  the  members  of 
the  family  being  engaged  in  the  various  duties  attendant 
upon  the  departure  of  their  guest,  and  the  head  of  the 
weeping  girl  had  dropped  upon  his  shoulder. 

"Flora,"  he  said,  bending  over  her,  "  I  am  going  to  whis- 
per a  little  keepsake  in  your  ear  which  I  wish  you  to  cherish 
and  keep  sacred  for  me  until  my  return.  Will  you?" 

She  did  not  answer,  and  he  raised  her  head  from  its 
resting-place,  kissed  her  fondly,  and  then  whispered, 

"  I  love  you,  sweet  fairy,  purely,  devotedly,  and  this 
avowal  I  place  in  your  little  heart  for  safe-keeping.  Shall 
I  come  four  years  hence,  and  find  it  there?  or  will  you 
before  that  time  throw  it  away  to  make  room  for  more 
ardent  vows?  Speak,  fairy.  I  do  not  ask  you  to  give  me 
a  pledge  in  return.  No,  you  shall  be  as  free  as  when  you 
roamed,  a  birdling  child,  in  your  far-away  forest,  before 
these  eyes  grew  wild  feeding  upon  your  beauty.  I  only  ask 
a*  99 


90  THE  KEEPSAKt,. 

you  to  keep  my  little  forget-me-not  in  that  priceless  caskr  t, 
a  heart  unspotted  by  the  selfishness  of  the  world,  until  I 
shall  see  you  again." 

Flora  was  bewildered.  These  were  strange  words  to  her, 
yet  she  understood  them.  Often,  when  she  breathed  her 
evening  prayer  with  simple  devotion,  had  she  thanked  her 
kind  heavenly  Father  for  all  his  blessings,  and  among  their. 
for  the  love  of  this  dear  friend.  But  this  was  different.  A 
more  than  a  brother's  love  was  conveyed  in  this  little 
keepsake  placed  in  her  care,  and  for  a  moment  she  stood 
overwhelmed,  powerless,  before  this  new  revelation  thus 
suddenly  opened  before  her. 

"Will  I  keep  it?"  she  asked,  after  a  pause.  "Will  the 
casket  be  allowed  to  retain  it  four  years  ?  It  is  a  long  time, 
and  you  will  see  many  pretty  faces  before  you  behold  me 
again.  You  did  not  ask  me  for  a  forget-me-not,  but  I  will 
give  you  one.  This  little  avowal,  you  have  this  moment 
consigned  to  my  keeping,  I  shall  not  lose !  but  you  will  not 
take  it  away  ?" 

A  shadow  passed  over  his  face  as  she  spoke ;  but  footsteps 
were  heard  upon  the  stairs,  and  a  carriage  had  arrived  to 
convey  him  to  the  boat.  A  moment  more,  and  he  must  go. 

"  Fairy,  trust  me ;  I  must  leave  you." 

He  drew  her  closely  to  him,  and  their  lips  sealed  the 
bond  that  united  their  hearts.  A  few  moments  more,  and 
Flora  slipped  unperceived  from  the  circle  which  surrounded 
the  doorway,  where  the  last  adieus  had  been  given,  and 
Bought  her  own  room.  A  new  life  seemed  to  penetrate  and 
illumine  her  future,  an  unseen  hand  lifted  the  pall  that  an 
hour  before  had  thrown  its  sombre  folds  over  it. 

"  He  loves  me !  How  very  strange !  I,  a  poor  Indian 
girl — he,  the  rich,  noble,  accomplished  Sir  Charles  Edgar- 
ton  !  But,  alas !  this  blissful  dream  must  pass  away.  Oh 
how  well  I  remember  what  my  dear  teacher  used  to  tell 
me — not  to  trust  their  words,  that  my  beauty  is  decaying 
property,  and  must  be  guarded  with  great  wisdom,  lest  it 


THE  KEEPSAKE.  91 

prove  a  curse.  Oh,  how  I  wish  I  could  tell  her  all !  She  ia 
so  wise  and  good,  and  I  am  so  weak !" 

About  a  week  after  the  departure,  while  sitting  alone  in 
her  room,  Lura  stealthily  entered  and  seated  herself  at  her 
side.  Flora  started  as  she  looked  up  and  beheld  the  ex- 
pression of  that  face.  Hate,  bitter  hate  and  disgust,  sat 
upon  every  feature,  and  her  keen  gray  eye  was  burning 
with  an  intense  light. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Lura  ?  Something  troubles  you,'* 
she  said,  endeavoring  to  appear  as  calm  as  usual. 

"  Something  troubles  you,"  she  quickly  responded,  smoth- 
ering the  fire  that  raged  within,  "  and  I  came  to  soothe  you, 
not  to  be  soothed." 

"Thank  you,  Lura;  but  you  see  me  quite  composed,  and 
fully  ready  for  the  pleasant  office  of  comforting  you.  Can 
I  be  of  any  service  to  you?" 

"  No,  no !"  and  the  poor  girl  shook  her  head  pensively. 
"  But  what  book  is  that  ?"  pointing  to  one  lying  open  upon 
the  table. 

"  My  French  grammar.     Did  you  ever  study  French  ?" 

"Study  French,  Miss  Flora!  Yes;  if  the  kettles  and 
frying-pans  talk  in  that  language,  I  have  studied  their  low 
words  of  sympathy  for  many  years." 

Flora  laughed  heartily  at  this  new  idea  of  language ;  but 
Lura  did  not  even  smile.  A  new  thought  suggested  itself 
to  Flora,  and  she  asked, 

"  Would  you  like  to  study  it?" 

Lura  started  to  her  feet  and  clasped  her  hands  as  she 
answered : 

"How  do  you  suppose  the  starving  prodigal  would  have 
felt,  when  endeavoring  to  satisfy  his  hunger  with  the  food 
that  rightfully  belonged  to  the  swine,  had  a  nice  roast  of 
beef  fallen  at  his  feet,  and  a  sweet  voice  bade  him  choose 
and  eat?" 

"  Upon  my  word,  Lura,  you  are  a  genius.  But  you  shall 
itudy  with  me  every  night.  I  will  teach  you  what  I  have 


92  THE  KEEPSAKE. 

learned  through  the  day,  and  we  shall  both  be  benefited  by 
the  operation." 

Flora  had  been  turning  over  the  leaves  of  her  book,  and 
had  not  noticed  her  companion,  until  she  felt  her  hand 
giasped  as  in  a  vice,  then  covered  with  tears  and  kisses. 

"  Why,  Lura,  my  dear  Lura,  does  the  prospect  of  studying 
make  you  happy  ?" 

"  Happier  than  you  can  imagine,  dear  Flora." 

"Then  suppose  you  commence  to-night?" 

"  No,  no,  not  to-night ;  I  want  to  tell  you  a  little  plan 
which  I  heard  talked  over  a  few  moments  ago,  and  which  I 
fear  will  make  you  unhappy." 

u  Oh,  never  mind  me,  Lura.  You  and  I  will  be  happy 
together  in  spite  of  circumstances,  shall  we  not  ?  But  what 
would  you  tell  me  ?" 

The  girl  hesitated  for  a  moment,  then  said,  "  They  mean  to 
take  this  pleasant  little  room  from  you,  and  give  you  the 
one  next  to  Irish  Mary's,  where  there  are  two  beds.  I  know 
what  the  next  step  will  be,  for  my  accomplished  sister  does 
not  enjoy  my  society  or  my  presence  in  her  apartment,  and 
would  be  very  glad  to  rid  herself  of  both." 

"  So  you  and  I  are  to  have  a  room  by  ourselves  ?  Well, 
that  is  capital.  I  only  wish  they  would  make  the  change 
to-day." 

"  I  thought  you  wouldn't  like  it,"  said  Lura,  with  much 
surprise. 

The  deep-toned  clock  sounded  forth  the  hour  of  nine,  and 
Flora,  hastily  throwing  on  her  bonnet  and  shawl,  left  the 
room,  and  hurried  away  to  school. 

Merrily  the  school-bell  chimed  in  with  the  deep  tones 
from  the  church-tower  over  the  way,  cheerily  sounding  up 
and  down  the  long  halls,  calling  from  their  rooms  bevies  of 
young,  joyous  creatures,  who  huddled  together  for  one 
moment,  mingling  their  morning  salutation,  then  gliding 
away  to  their  several  recitation-rooms. 

Flora  skipped  lightly  up  the  broad  stairway  to  the  school- 


THE  KEEPSAKE.  93 

room,  where  her  first  hour  was  spent  in  study.  A  few  gave 
her  a  greeting  smile  as  she  passed  on,  and  all  stared  curiously 
after  her  as  the  door  closed  behind  her  retreating  figure. 
Here,  at  least,  sb^  knew  a  pleasing  welcome  awaited  her, 
and  on  this  hour  shone  the  one  bright  ray  that  lit  up  all 
the  cheerless  routine  of  her  daily  duties. 

Kilty  Lane  was  a  bright  little  sparkling  beauty,  nearly  as 
old  as  herself,  but  very  different  were  her  laughing  face  and 
deep  blue  eyes,  that  continually  sparkled  with  concealed 
merriment,  and  the  flaxen  hair  that  would  curl  all  around 
her  pretty  face,  in  spite  of  many  efforts  to  bring  it  down  to 
a  sober  smoothness  around  her  high,  intellectual  forehead — • 
very  different  were  all  these  from  the  calm,  dark,  thoughtful 
face  of  the  new  scholar,  whom  she  had  taken  intimately 
into  her  affections,  an  intimacy  which  was  fully  recipro- 
cated by  Flora,  who  was  always  ready  to  unravel  all  the  deep 
mysteries  of  the  simple  lessons  which  Kitty  "  never  could 
Bee  through,"  and  assist  her  with  her  exercises,  which  she 
never  could  write.  In  fact,  lessons  to  this  lively  beauty  were 
a  bore — an  opinion  which  she  never  hesitated  to  express 
in  her  classes ;  and  of  course  she  was  often  in  disgrace  with 
her  teachers. 

"  I  would  help  it  if  I  could,"  she  would  often  say  to  Flora's 
urgent  appeal ;  "  but  indeed  I  hate  books,  and  wouldn't  come 
to  school  at  all,  if  it  were  not  for  my  dancing  and  music 
lessons." 

Their  desks  joined,  and  as  Flora  took  her  seat  Kitty 
grasped  her  hand  triumphantly  with — 

"  Comment  vous portez  vous  machere?" 

"  Ah  !  I  am  sure  you  have  your  lessons  nicely  thia  morn- 
ing, and  you  don't  need  me  to  help  you  at  all." 

"  Grandly,  grandly,  only  this  little  phrase, '  Je  M  comp~ende 
pas.'  I  suppose  I  don't  twist  it  just  right  in  my  exe-'use. 
But  you'll  fix  it  in  just  a  minute." 

trl  must  mark  you,"  said  the  monitress,  touching  v<?r 
lightly  on  the  shoulder,  "  for  Palmer  sees  you." 


94  THE  KEEPSAKE. 


"  Go  ahead  !  I  am  used  to  it.  In  fact,  I  should  go  home 
indignant  if  I  should  not  be  called  out  conspicuously  every 
evaning  to  answer  for  at  least  a  dozen  black  lines  opposite 
my  name." 

The  monitress  was  standing  by  her  own  desk  in  the  centre 
of  the  room  before  she  had  half  finished  speaking,  and  wan 
ooking  at  her. 

"  Two  this  time  ?"  she  asked,  with  a  merry  nod. 

The  monitress  smiled  and  turned  away. 

"Oh,  you  are  going  home  with  me  to-night,"  she  said,  a 
moment  after,  turning  again  to  Flora.  u  Please  don't  look  so 
sober  at  me.  I'll  not  whisper  another  time  until  the  bell 
rings,  see  if  I  do." 

Flora  smiled  at  this  extraordinary  resolution,  and  con- 
tinued studying. 

A  long  table  reached  across  the  extensive  apartment  called 
the  school-room,  appropriated  as  a  study  room  for  the  day- 
scholars  when  they  were  not  engaged  in  their  recitations, 
and  around  this  table  every  hour  a  writing  class  was  gath- 
ered. The  last  hour  in  the  morning  Flora  and  Kitty  occu- 
pied adjacent  seats  at  this  table. 

"  Flora,  you  are  as  grave  as  a  deacon  to-day,"  said 
Kitty,  a  few  minutes  after  they  were  seated  ;  "  but  I  am 
going  to  have  some  fun." 

Flora  did  not  notice  this  last  sentence,  for  thoughts  of  the 
absent  one,  who  was  every  moment  going  farther  and  farther 
from  her,  came  rushing  into  her  mind,  and  all  things  else 
were  forgotten.  She  was  aroused  from  her  reverie,  however, 
by  a  gentle  touch  upon  her  hand,  and  a  folded  paper  was 
handed  her.  A  glance  revealed  the  inscription,  "  Pass  it 
on,"  and  she  obeyed.  Then  came  back  the  parting  scene 
—  those  strange  words,  the  farewell  kiss,  the  look  of  ardent 
affection  ;  and  how  her  heart  throbbed  with  a  wild  pleasure 
it  had  never  known  before  !  Again  her  hand  was  touched, 
and  that  same  mysterious  paper  was  handed  her.  She  Held 
it  a  moment  in  surprise,  and  the  truth  flashed  upon  her. 


THE  KEEPSAKE.  95 

"  Kitty,"  she  whispered  to  her  companion,  who  was  un- 
usually interested  in  her  copying  at  this  moment ;  but  the 
tall,  stately  form  of  Miss  Palmer,  the  presiding  officer  arid 
teacher  in  this  apartment,  towered  prominently  over  her. 

"I'll  take  that  paper,"  she  hissed  sternly  through  her 
teeth.  Flora  started,  and  a  deep  blush  overspread  her 
countenance. 

The  teacher  opened  it,  and  read,  Flora  knew  not  what, 
tut  she  saw  anger  in  her  dark  eyes,  and  the  compression  of 
her  lips  showed  no  mercy.  She  passed  on,  and  held  a  long 
consultation  with  Mr.  Wilkes,  the  writing  master,  who  arose 
a  moment  after  and  solemnly  commanded  the  writer  of  the 
few  words  contained  in  the  paper  he  held  in  his  hand  to 
arise.  All  remained  in  their  seats. 

"  Miss  Hawes,  this  paper  was  discovered  in  your  hands. 
Can  you  give  any  information  concerning  it  ?" 

"  I  cannot,  sir,"  Flora  answered,  composedly. 

"  Why,  he  wants  you  to  tell  him  how  paper  is  made," 
eaid  Kitty,  in  a  low  whisper ;  "  can't  you  enlighten  him  ? 
If  he'd  ask  me,  I'd  tell  him." 

"  Miss  Hawes,  your  appearance  betrays  you,"  said  Miss 
Palmer,  with  great  dignity.  4<  If  you  did  not  write  it  your- 
self, you  at  least  know  who  did.  The  investigation  will  not 
stop  here ;  I  shall  know  who  perpetrated  this  very  unlady- 
like misdemeanor,  and  she  shall  pay  the  penalty  of  her 
transgression." 

All  eyes  were  turned  upon  Flora,  whose  head  had  dropped 
upon  the  table  before  her,  and  her  long  black  curls  hid  the 
tears  that  were  falling  fast. 

"  Don't,"  whispered  Kitty,  soothingly ;  "  this  will  be  the 
hist  of  it.  She  always  makes  dreadful  threats,  but  she 
won't  stir  it  up  any  more." 

In  this  the  mischievous  Kitty  was  mistaken.  That  night, 
when  the  entire  school  was  collected  at  prayers,  as  usual, 
great  was  the  astonishment  of  many  to  see  Mrs.  Willard 
enter  with  Miss  Palmer,  who  always  officiated  upon  these 
occasions.  Prayers  were  read,  and  then  the  grave  question 


96  THE  KEEPSAKE. 

was  taken  up  by  the  beloved  principal  herself.  A  long  time 
Bhe  talked  to  them  with  maternal  affection,  telling  of  the 
grief  she  experienced  when  her  faithful  co-workers  were 
treated  with  disrespect,  and  begged  that  the  guilty  one  on 
this  occasion  should  come  forward,  that  the  innocent  might 
r  _>t  suffer  instead.  No  one  moved. 

"  Miss  Hawes,"  she  continued,  after  a  moment's  pause, 
ucan  it  be  possible  that  you  have  so  soon  joined  yourself  to 
the  considerable  party  which  has  long  been  engaged  in  this 
most  disreputable  practice  of  annoying  one  of  my  subordi- 
nates ?  I  am  very  sorry  !" 

Flora  was  sobbing  aloud,  and  could  not  answer.  Kitty 
Lane  was  sitting  beside  her,  pale  and  agitated,  and  the 
words,  "  No  more  than  might  be  expected,"  "  I  am  glad 
that  I  did  not  take  her  up,"  were  audible  in  the  ears  of  the 
weeping  girl.  Kitty  heard  them  too,  and  with  sudden  de- 
termination beaming  in  her  pale  face,  she  arose  and  walked 
to  the  centre  of  the  room. 

"  Miss  Palmer,  it  was  I  who  committed  that  misdemeanor, 
and  not  Flora  Hawes,  whom  you  accuse.  It  was  my  first 
offence  of  the  kind ;  and  if  you  will  forgive  me,  I  solemnly 
declare  it  shall  be  my  last."  Here  the  beautiful  girl  burst 
into  tears,  and  a  murmur  of  applause  filled  the  room. 

"  Noble  girl !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Willard,  taking  her  hand 
and  drawing  her  toward  her ;  "  you  have  won  many  hearts 
by  your  confession,  and  Miss  Palmer,  I  know,  freely  forgives 
you.  But  the  trembling,  weeping  girl  yonder  has  more  than 
any  one  else  to  forgive  in  this  affair.  You  have  permitted 
her  to  suffer  under  a  weight  of  suspicion  for  more  than  four 
hours,  and  her  silent  tears  tell  us  how  keenly  she  has  felt  the 
Btigma.  Go  to  her,  my  child.  If  she  speaks  your  pardon, 
go,  and  sin  no  more." 

Kitty  rushed  to  her  side,  and  for  a  moment  the  two  friends 
sobbed  in  the  fond  embrace  of  reconciliation.  More  closely 
than  ever  were  these  hearts  united;  a  breach  had  been 
made,  but  the  golden  chain  of  forgiveness  had  bound  them 
together  as  one. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 
WELCOME  TIDINGS. 

U/~\H,  it  snows,  it  snows!"  and  Kitty  I^ane  clapped  her 

\J  hands  in  the  exuberance  of  her  glee ;  "and  there's  a 
good  time  coming — sleigh-rides,  and  dancing-parties ;  I  shall 
have  one  myself.  Mr.  Pardee  is  coming  with  the  "whole 
class ;  he  told  mamma  he  would.  Look !  don't  you  see  it 
enows  ?" 

"  Yes,"  answered  Flora,  who  had  "been  silently  listening 
to  her  companion — "  yes",  I  see  that  it  snows,  and  I  also  see 
that  it  rains.  Your  sleigh-ride  will  not  come  off  this  week. 
Don't  you  see  it  melts  as  fast  as  it  falls  ?" 

"Sure  enough;  and  how  are  we  to  get  home?  The 
walks  are  covered  with  snow  and  rain." 

"  Oh,  nicely.  Come ;  I'll  show  you  how ;"  and  the  two 
girls  tripped  lightly  down  the  stone  steps,  along  the  gravel 
walk  and  through  the  heavy  side  gate  that  led  into  the 
street. 

"Oh,  here  is  our  carriage,"  exclaimed  Kitty.  "Why, 
Jim,  you  nice  fellow  I  You  came  after  me,  didn't  you  ?" 

"  Certainly,"  answered  a  tall,  overgrown  lad,  descending 
from  the  driver's  box  to  open  the  door. 

"  Come,  Flora,  ride  home  with  me,  and  then  Jim  will 
take  you  around  to  Third  street.  Won't  you,  Jim?" 

"  Certainly,"  he  again  answered ;  and  after  some  persua- 
sion, Floia  entered  the  carriage. 

"  Now,  at  least,  you  will  see  where  I  live,"  said  Kitty  as 
the  door  closed  upon  them.  "  I  don't  see  what  makes  you 
so  selfish  ;  you  shut  yourself  up  in  that  little  white  cottage 
as  though  it  was  the  best  place  on  earth.  I  have  been 

V  97 


98  WELCOME  TIDINGS. 

teasing  you  for  six  weeks  to  come  and  see  my  pretty 
mamma;  she  is  the  handsomest  and  best  that  ever 
lived." 

"  I  don't  doubt  it,"  said  Flora.  "  But  you  know  I  ha  e 
all  my  lessons  to  prepare,  besides  some  other  small  duties 
to  perform  which  occupy  all  my  time." 

"  Pshaw  I  I  suppose  you  think  I  don't  have  any  lessons 
to  prepare.  But  really,  you  ought  to  see  me  study." 

Just  then  the  carriage  stopped  before  a  large  stone  build- 
ing, with  marble  steps,  which  looked  cold  and  grand  in  its 
exposed  situation,  standing,  as  it  did,  upon  the  walk,  with- 
out a  tree  or  shrub  to  be  seen,  and  the  rain-drops  trickling 
fast  down  the  iron  balustrades  that  projected  from  the  upper 
windows. 

"  Oh,  there's  mamma  in  the  door,  waiting  for  me.  Isn't 
she  beautiful  ?" 

"She  looks  just  like  you.  But  who  is  that  pale  girl 
standing  beside  her  ?" 

"  Our  seamstress;  she  is  going  home,  I  suppose." 

As  the  carriage  door  opened,  Flora  heard  Mrs.  Lane  ask 
Jim  if  he  would  take  Anna  home,  as  it  was  rather  bad 
walking. 

"  Certainly,"  was  again  the  reply ;  and  she  began  to  won- 
der if  he  had  committed  to  memory  any  other  word  from 
the  dictionary,  when  Kitty  sprang  up  the  steps  and  was 
clasped  in  her  mother's  arms.  Hearing  her  own  name 
mentioned,  she  looked  up,  and  saw  the  eyes  of  Mrs.  Lane 
fixed  upon  her. 

"  Won't  you  come  in,  my  dear  ?"  said  the  voice  of  the 
lady. 

But  Flora  declined ;  and  the  seamstress  entering  the  car- 
riage, they  drove  away.  It  was  a  pale,  sweet  face  that  waa 
opposite  her,  and  the  eyes  that  locked  all  the  time  intently 
from  the  carriage  window  were  calm  and  blue  as  the  sky 
of  a  summer's  eve.  Her  dark  brown  hair  was  combed 
back,  and  lay  in  rich  waves  upon  her  transparent  brow. 


WELCOME  TIDINGS.  99 

Neither  had  spoken  when  the  carriage  stopped  in  front  of 
the  cottage.  Flora  alighted,  bidding  her  companion  a 
tender  good-bye,  which  was  responded  to  in  faint  tones. 

Entering  the  hall,  the  junior  Edwards  met  her  with  the 
welcome  information  that  he  had  a  letter  for  her.  She  ex- 
pressed her  thanks,  and  extended  her  hand  to  receive  it 

"  No,  no,1'  said  he,  stepping  back;  "  I  shall  not  give  it  to 
you  until  you  look  at  me.  I  am  not  such  a  bad-looking 
ijllovv;"  and  he  stroked  his  chin  soothingly,  and  ran  hia 
long  fingers  through  his  luxuriant  hair.  "  Not  so  ugly  that 
you  need  fear  to  give  me  a  glance.  You  haven't  raised 
your  eyes  to  my  face  for  the  last  six  weeks." 

"I  am  sure  you  are  mistaken.  But  I  have  now  been 
gazing  at  you  for  sixty  seconds  at  least.  Will  you  not  be 
so  kind  as  to  give  me  my  reward  ?" 

"  I  am  sure  my  motives  are  noble  and  honorable  concern- 
ing you,  Miss  Flora,"  he  said,  handing  her  the  letter,  "  and 
I  would  be  very  glad  to  do  you  good." 

Flora  thanked  him.  The  sound  of  the  tea-bell  terminated 
the  conversation ;  and  placing  the  precious  missive  in  her 
pocket,  she  entered  the  room. 

"  You  have  a  letter  ?"  said  Miss  Lena  as  she  seated  her- 
self at  the  table. 

"Yes." 

"  Let  me  see  it." 

"  I  have  not  yet  read  it  myself,"  said  Flora,  coloring  with 
indignation. 

"  Never  mind ;  I  can  read  it  while  you  are  drinking  your 
tea,  and  you  can  have  it  afterward." 

"  No,"  said  Flora,  emphatically ;  "  it  is  my  letter,  and  J 
must  read  it  before  any  one  else." 

"  Give  Lena  the  letter  from  her  cousin,"  said  Mr.  Edwards, 
authoritafively.  "It  is  no  doubt  written  for  us  as  well  as 
yourself;  what  is  the  difference  who  reads  it  first?" 

Without  speaking,  Flora  arose  from  the  table  and  left  the 
room. 


100  WELCOME  TIDINGS. 

"  111  see  that  letter,"  said  Lena,  after  she  had  gone.  "  A 
pretty  upstart!  She  considers  herself  grand,  no  doubt." 

"  Yes,  upstart,  sure  enough,"  echoed  the  mother.  "  It's 
very  strange  how  these  creatures  can  crow  when  raised 
from  the  mire  into  which  nature  carelessly  dumped  them 
and  placed  on  a  slight  elevation  of  respectability." 

"  Miss  Flora  is  undoubtedly  right,"  said  the  young  man, 
moving  back  his  chair.  "  It  is  her  letter,  and  of  course  she 
has  a  right  to  do  what  she  pleases  with  it ;  if  there  is  any- 
thing intended  for  other  ears,  she  will  tell  it." 

"Undoubtedly,"  replied  the  father,  sneeringly;  and  the 
remainder  of  the  meal  was  eaten  in  silence. 

Flora,  in  the  mean  time,  had  retired  to  her  room,  which 
was,  according  to  Lura's  prophecy,  directly  over  the  one  in 
which  the  family  were  now  seated.  For  a  long  time  she 
sat  by  the  closed  window,  looking  out  through  her  blind- 
ing tears  into  the  gathering  twilight,  and  listened  to  the 
storm  as  it  pattered  against  the  panes,  thinking — oh,  of 
what  was  she  not  thinking?  The  past,  with  her  happy 
innocent  childhood,  the  present,  with  its  perplexities,  so 
new  to  her,  the  future,  with  its  shadows — dark  shadows — 
all  rose  up  before  her  troubled  view  and  joined  in  a  chorus 
of  desolation  which  rang  through  the  inner  chambers  of 
her  soul.  Oh,  the  heart  moanings,  the  feeble  wails  of  un- 
utterable anguish,  which  came  up  through  the  discordant 
thoughts  that  were  ever  intruding  themselves  upon  the 
lonely  orphan's  existence  I  No  mother's  bosom  where  the 
weary  head  could  rest,  no  mother's  hand  to  wipe  away  the 
bitter,  scalding  tears,  no  mother's  voice  to  speak  peace  to 
ihe  troubled  waters  that  rose,  with  angry  billows,  ready  to 
destroy  I 

" No  mother — no  mother!"  Those  dirge-like  words  echo 
through  the  overhanging  vault  of  the  clouded  sky,  and  the 
sunbeams  die  away. 

Flora  wept.  Bitter  tears  will  be  wrung  from  the  crushed 
and  bleeding  heart,  but  God  forbid  that  the  hand  that  write* 


WELCOME  TIDINGS.  101 

these  pages,  or  yours,  dear  reader,  should  ever  be  seared  by 
Fuch  scalding  drops  of  anguish  as  the  orphan's  tears.  The 
clouds,  however,  will  pass  away,  for  a  Father's  hand  shall 
scatter  them ;  and  Flora  wiped  the  tears  from  her  eyes  and 
broke  the  seal  of  the  letter  which  she  held  in  her  hand. 
A  smile  soon  danced  upon  her  troubled  face  as  she  rea-1 
the  words  breathing  affection  and  an  earnest  solicitude  1< 
her  happiness,  mingling  such  bright  hopes  for  the  futuu< 
and  proffering  joys  for  her  every-day  life.  Then  came  the 
last  page,  and  a  sigh  of  regret  escaped  her  that  she  was  so 
near  the  end. 

"  I  have  a  little  bit  of  news  to  tell  you,"  she  read,  "  which 
I  have  kept  as  the  best  wine  for  the  last  of  the  feast.  This 
morning  I  received  a  letter  from  our  mutual  friend,  the 
island  missionary,  in  answer  to  the  one  which  I  sent  back 
by  the  '  Fur  Trader '  on  our  voyage.  He  expresses  much 
satisfaction  to  learn  of  your  good  fortune,  as  he  chooses  to 
term  it — that  your  dear  teacher  was  much  distressed  when 
you  could  not  be  found,  but  now  joins  with  him  in  his 
rejoicings.  "Wehegan,  the  warrior  to  whom  you  plighted 
your  early  vows,  but  not  your  love,  my  fairy,  is  still  alive, 
although  badly  wounded,  and  has  confessed  what  I  was 
before  quite  confident  of — that  it  was  his  jealousy  which 
prompted  him  to  inform  you  that  he  was  to  leave  the 
island  that  day,  which  he  did  not  intend  to,  but  hovered 
around  the  cliff  as  a  spy  upon  my  departure,  believing  that 
we  would  not  separate  forever  without  an  exchange  of 
farewells.  If  so,  he  had  determined  that  both  of  us  should 
fall  victims  to  his  rage. 

"  Dear  fairy,  here  is  a  problem  for  your  trusting  heart  : 
what  power  guided  my  ball  through  the  darkness  to  per- 
form its  work  with  sufficient  thoroughness  to  secure  us  a 
complete  protection  during  our  retreat?  Not  mine,  as- 
suredly. Perhaps  your  faith  can  answer  the  question. 

"  Pastor  Hawes  also  encloses  a  small  manuscript  which 
you  may  like  to  have  in  your  possession,  and  which  might 
M 


102  WELCOME  TIDINGS. 

prove  of  value  to  you.  I  send  it  herein,  and  advise  you  to 
put  it  carefully  away. 

"  Be  sure  and  write  me  next  week,  fairy,  that  I  may  receive 
your  letter  at  Washington,  whither  I  go  to-morrow,  and  tell 
me  if  everybody  is  kind  and  gentle  to  you.  Study  dili- 
gently, for  I  have  a  more  glorious  prospect  for  your  future 
than  for  you  to  return  as  a  civilizer  of  your  people." 

The  manuscript  enclosed  by  Edgarton  was  the  certificate 
of  the  marriage  by  Christian  ceremony  of  the  supposed 
parents  of  Flora ;  this  important  document  was  duly  signed 
by  the  officiating  minister  and  attested  by  two  competent 
witnesses.  A  paper  that,  however  valuable  in  many  in- 
stances, was,  in  the  case  of  Flora,  productive  only  of  misery, 
shadowing  in  dark  clouds  many  months  of  her  life.  But 
we  anticipate,  and  must  tell  the  story  in  its  natural  course. 

Again  the  eyes  wandered  out  into  the  storm,  and  busy 
thoughts  were  trooping  about  guideless  through  every  nook 
and  corner  of  her  bewildered  brain.  Darkness  had  crept 
in  at  the  window  and  shrouded  everything  in  that  little 
room  with  its  thick  folds  when  Lura  entered,  bearing  a 
lamp  and  a  napkin  filled  with  a  plentiful  repast  gathered 
from  the  remains  of  the  evening  meal. 

"You  are  very  thoughtful  and  kind,  dear  Lura;  but 
really,  I  cannot  eat." 

"  You  must.  Beauty  cannot  live  upon  grief  and  fasting. 
I've  tried  them  both,  and  a  depreciating  effect  they  have 
even  upon  such  a  face  as  mine.  So  just  eat  this  one  biscuit 
and  this  bit  of  chipped  beef,  and  I'll  ensure  your  pretty  face 
through  this  disgraceful  storm." 

Flora  complied  smilingly  with  the  urgent  request,  and 
really  did  good  justice  to  the  timely  repast.  After  this  the 
two  girls  seated  themselves  around  the  little  table,  with 
their  books  open  before  them,  while  Flora  explained  the 
day's  lessons  to  her  greedy  pupil. 

Then  a  long  silence  ensued,  devoted  to  the  preparation  of 
the  morning  tasks.  The  clock  struck  nine,  and  Flora  com- 


WELCOME  TIDINGS.  103 

plaining  of  weariness  and  headache,  proposed  to  retire. 
Still  Lura  studied  on,  her  small  eyes  enlarging  with  re- 
newed interest,  and  her  cheeks  glowing  with  excitement. 
Flora  arranged  herself  for  the  night,  turned  from  the  pleas- 
ing spectacle  before  her,  and  knelt,  an  humble  suppliant, 
at  the  Father's  feet.  The  eyes  of  the  enthusiastic  student 
were  suddenly  raised  from  the  page  before  her,  and  her 
clasped  hands  fell  listlessly  upon  it.  Every  night  since 
they  had  occupied  that  room  together  she  had  seen  that  fig- 
ure robed  in  white  bow  silently  before  the  invisible  One, 
but  to-night  there  seemed  to  be  an  unwonted  halo  of  devo- 
tion around  her. 

"  The  heart,  when  peaceful  and  happy,  sends  up  its  trib- 
ute of  praise ;  when  sad  and  wretched — yes,  when  sad  and 
wretched — a  piteous  entreaty  for  sympathy  and  relief. 
Why  have  I  not  thought  of  this  before  ?  Why  so  perse- 
veringly  contend  with  outward  circumstances,  and  fight 
with  feeble  hands  a  foe  my  insufficient  strength  could 
never  conquer  ?" 

Thus  Lura  mused  until  the  kneeling  suppliant  arose, 
her  heart  soothed  and  comforted  by  the  influences  of  a 
whispered  peace.  Turning,  Flora  beheld  the  deep,  thought- 
ful eyes  fixed  upon  her. 

"  Good-night,"  she  said,  smilingly ;  "  I  retire  early,  and 
leave  the  whole  field  of  knowledge  clear  to  you.  But  dc 
not  roam  too  long  over  its  rocks  and  briars,  or  you  will  be- 
come footsore,  and  then  it  will  be  my  duty  to  turn  minis- 
tering angel  and  feed  your  hungry  mental  nature  with  'bis- 
cuit and  chipped  beef.' " 

"  My  dear  Flora,  you  have  been  more  of  a  ministering 
angel  to  me  than  you  perhaps  will  ever  understand.  My 
mind  was  starving,  famishing,  and  you  have  been,  and  are 
feeding  it.  My  soul  was  hungry ;  your  precious  example 
points  to  the  place  where  it  can  obtain  food,  and  it  thanks 
you." 


104  WELCOME  TIDINGS. 

Flora  threw  her  arms  around  her  companion's  neck,  and 
kissed  her  burning  cheek  affectionately. 

"  Will  you  give  me  a  place  in  your  morning  and  evening 
petitions,  Flora  ?  I  am  hungry — very,  very  hungry." 

"  Ask  for  food,  then,  dear  Lura,  and  it  shall  be  abun- 
dantly given  you." 

"  There  is  no  angelic  spirit  to  hover  over  me  as  over  you, 
Flora.  Ah  !  I  could  almost  hear  the  rustling  of  her  ethe- 
real robes  and  the  music  of  her  unfolded  wings  as  she, 
stopped  on  her  heavenly  mission  to  catch  the  unspoken 
words  of  your  prayer,  and  bear  them  away  to  the  throne  of 
answering  mercy.  Flora,  who  is  your  unseen  guide  ?  It 
must  be  the  spirit  of  an  angel  mother.  Something  seemed 
to  tell  me  so,  as  I  sat  here  and  looked  upon  you.  Tell  me 
about  her.  Was  she  beautiful  as  yourself?  or  did  she  leave 
you  so  long  ago  that  you  have  forgotten  her  ?" 

Flora  started,  and  her  heart  throbbed  violently.  This 
was  a  very  unexpected  turn  to  the  conversation,  and  she 
knew  not  how  to  answer. 

"  No,  Lura,"  she  at  last  said ;  "  my  mother  was  not  beau- 
tiful, and  it  is  not  many  months  since  she  entered  the 
spirit-land.  But  I  am  not  fully  convinced  as  yet  that  de- 
parted souls  are  the  media  of  communication  between  the 
Father  of  our  spirits  and  ourselves,  beautiful  as  the  idea 
must  ever  be  to  the  imaginative  mind.  We  will  talk  more 
of  this  at  some  future  time.  Do  not,  Lura,  lose  the  glimpse 
you  have  had  of  that  source  of  supply  from  which  the 
hungry  soul  can  be  abundantly  fed.  Ask,  and  such  suste- 
nance shall  be  given  you.  Good-night." 


CHAPTER    XVII. 
TEE  FATAL  SECRET. 

snow  and  rain  long  contended  for  the  supremacy, 
JL  but  owing  to  the  extreme  youthfulness  of  stern-visaged 
winter,  he  was  vanquished  after  a  struggle,  and  the  rain- 
storm at  last  pattered  away  victoriously,  having  the  exten- 
sive field  entirely  to  itself,  and  the  silly  winds  laughed  and 
capered  through  the  dark,  deserted  streets,  as  they  saw  their 
competitor  slowly  retire.  Yet,  alas !  how  short-lived  are  all 
earthly  rejoicings !  The  winds  died  away ;  the  frost  king 
strode  forth  silently  and  slowly ;  and  when  morning  came, 
and  the  sun's  ruddy  face  peeped  forth  from  his  curtained 
bed,  he  espied  nature  robed  in  a  transparent,  glittering  coat 
of  mail  adorned  with  gems  of  various  hues. 

Flora,  too,  beheld  the  icy  pavement,  but  with  quite  a 
different  emotion.  The  sun  could  ride  all  day  above  them, 
but  she  must  walk  upon  the  glassy  surface  or  stay  at  home, 
of  which  she  had  no  intention ;  therefore  she  did  not  hesi- 
tate. She  had  often  .tripped  with  light  and  buoyant  step 
over  a  surface  quite  as  smooth,  but  the  moccasins  with 
which  her  feet  were  then  covered  were  far  preferable,  as 
she  soon  had  occasion  to  know,  for  this  purpose,  to  her 
india-rubber  shoes;  yet  she  walked  lightly  and  carefully 
forward,  stopping  now  and  then  to  enjoy  a  secret  laugh,  aa 
she  beheld  the  full-length  portrait  of  some  luckless  pedes- 
trian stretched  upon  the  treacherous  pavement,  or  perform- 
ing without  much  show  of  elegance  all  the  sliding  back  and 
forward  steps  of  the  most  fashionable  waltz  or  quadrille, 
until  at  length  she  found  herself,  much  to  her  amazement, 
where  her  powers  of  locomotion  proved  utterly  unavailing. 

106 


106  THE  FATAL  SECRET. 

She  had  slipped  from  the  walk  down  into  a  deep  glassy 
trench  which  some  workmen  upon  a  building  in  the  pro- 
cess of  erection  had  excavated,  and  all  her  efforts  to  regain 
her  former  footing  were  fruitless.  She  stood  still  for  a  mo- 
ment, her  merriment  rather  abating,  as  she  realized  her 
awkward  position  and  the  unpleasant  exposure  which  was 
inevitable,  should  any  of  her  schoolmates,  Kitty  exceptcd, 
chance  to  come  that  way,  when  the  sound  of  a  voice  ad- 
dressing her  made  her  start  and  look  suddenly  around  : 

"  If  you  will  avail  yourself  of  this  cane  of  mine,  I  think  I 
can  without  difficulty  assist  you." 

Her  eyes  danced  and  sparkled  with  merriment ;  and  for- 
getting her  usual  timidity,  she  laid  hold  of  the  proffered  aid. 
and  in  a  moment  stood  beside  her  unknown  deliverer. 

"  This  is  being  hooked  out  of  a  predicament  very  oppor- 
tunely, for  which,  sir,  you  have  many  thanks,"  she  said, 
modestly,  smothering  her  glee. 

It  was  a  manly  face  upon  which  she  looked,  as  she 
uttered  these  words,  and  those  were  dark,  bewitching  eyes 
that  gazed  for  an  instant  into  her  own. 

"  Will  you  not  permit  me  to  assist  you  a  little  farther  ?" 
lie  asked,  proffering  her  his  arm.  "  It  is  hardly  safe  for 
ladies  to  walk  alone  this  morning." 

She  took  the  arm  so  kindly  offered,  and  soon  found  herself 
Bafely  within  the  gate  of  the  seminary  yard.  Again  the  dark 
eyes  looked  deep  into  hers  with  their  peculiarly  bewitching 
power,  as  she  turned  to  thank  him  for  his  aid,  and  all  day 
long  the  handsome  face  of  the  stranger  seemed  before  her. 

While  Flora's  heart  and  brain — the  two  great  elements 
of  our  nature,  as  some  physiologist  pleases  to  term  them — 
were  the  theatre  of  a  miniature  combat,  Lura  was  engaged 
with  an  unusual  amount  of  household  cares,  as  Mrs.  Ed- 
wards and  her  eldest  daughter  entered  the  room  occupied 
by  the  two  girls  and  locked  the  door  after  them. 

"  I  wouldn't  care  anything  about  the  letter,"  whispered 
Lena,  as  the  key  was  turned  slowly  and  cautiously  in  the 


THE  FATAL  SECRET.  107 

lock,  "  if  she  hadn't  so  coolly  thrown  tho  subject  aside  after 
our  last  night's  conversation,  and  never  mentioned  it  this 
morning.  But  now  I'm  determined  to  see  it.  I  presume 
it  will  be  easy  enough,  unless  she  has  it  with  her,  for  she 
hasn't  locked  a  trunk  since  she  has  been  here." 

So  saying,  the  mother  and  daughter  stealthily  crossed  the 
room  and  approached  the  wardrobe,  where  the  trucks  were 
placed. 

"  Ton  my  word,  if  this  one  isn't  fastened !"  whispered  Lena, 
after  vainly  endeavoring  to  raise  the  lid ;  "  it  must  be  worth 
looking  into  after  such  unusual  caution.  But  I  have  read 
somewhere  that  impediments  only  strengthen  firm  resolu- 
tion, of  which  behold  the  proof  positive ;"  and  with  a  sar- 
donic smile,  she  silently  left  the  room.  In  a  few  moments 
ehe  returned  with  a  huge  bundle  of  keys,  and,  after  relocking 
the  door,  with  a  zeal  which  deserved  a  better  cause  than  the 
contemptible  operation  in  which  she  was  engaged,  key  after 
key  was  tried,  and  the  fair  face  grew  more  and  more  anxious, 
as  each  of  them  in  turn  refused  to  be  just  the  one  for  the 
present  emergency. 

"  Here  is  one,"  she  exclaimed,  at  last,  "  which  I  believe 
would  open  it,  if  that  little  corner  was  off,  and  a  few 
moments  among  the  files  and  rubbish  in  the  garret  will 
make  that  all  right." 

"  Fie,  fie,  Lena !  let's  give  it  up,"  said  the  mother,  growing 
a  little  ashamed  of  her  part  in  this  affair ;  "  it's  not  worth 
the  trouble." 

"  You  must  have  forgotten  your  former  lessons,"  Lena 
replied,  with  a  sneer,  "but  I  have  not.     Go  to  your  owi 
room  ;  and  when  I  am  ready,  I  will  let  you  know." 

The  mother  obeyed,  and  in  less  than  half  an  hour  :he 
trunk  was  opened,  and  Lena,  with  glowing  cheeks  and  eyes 
fired  with  excitement,  held  in  her  hands  the  anxiously 
coveted  letter.  Summoning  her  mother,  she  opened  the 
prize  with  eager  hands,  and  as  she  opened  it  the  marriage 
certificate  fell  to  the  floor.  While  reading  the  letter,  several 


108  THE  FATAL  SECRET. 

times  she  paused  to  vent  her  anger  and  disgust.  The  last 
line  was  finished,  and  she  sat  gazing  into  her  mother's  face. 
Mrs.  Edwards  was  the  first  to  recover,  and  called  Lena's  at 
tention  to  the  paper  on  the  floor.  This  they  slowly  perused, 
and  then  there  was  a  long  pause  of  dismay  at  the  revelations 
of  Edgarton's  feelings  toward  Flora,  and  of  surprise  at  those 
of  Flora's  parentage.  At  last,  the  mother  spoke  : 

"  Put  the  letter  and  its  precious  enclosure  back  where  you 
found  them,  and  lock  the  trunk  carefully." 

Lena  obeyed,  muttering,  as  she  did  so, 

"Well,  I  can  scarcely  believe  my  own  senses.  If  this 
little  upstart  isn't  nothing  more  nor  less  than  an  insignificant 
Bquaw  1  Just  let  her  show  any  more  of  her  impertinence 
around  me,  and  I  can  make  her  feathers  droop." 

"  And  he  proposes  to  love  the  low  creature  1"  chimed  in 
the  mother.  "  This  is  great  business.  I  wonder  what  Lady 
Anna  will  say,  if  she  finds  it  out  ?" 

"She  shall;  that's  just  it:  111  write  to  her.  This  will 
bring  about  a  correspondence  between  us,  and  we  can  use 
it  then  as  we  choose ;"  and  Lena  passed  from  the  room  in 
high  glee. 

"  I  don't  know  about  it  just  now,"  said  the  sager  of  the 
two ;  "  I'll  think  it  over.  It  isn't  best  to  leap  too  hastily. 
You  know  we  only  took  her  into  the  house  in  order  to 
insinuate  ourselves,  if  possible,  into  the  good  graces  of  those 
who  felt  disposed  to  drop  us  because  our  position  changed, 
and  we  must  be  careful  not  to  defeat  our  purpose." 

"  But  to  think,  mother,  that  she  is  an  Indian  girl,  and, 
child  as  she  is,  was  sworn  to  marry  an  Indian  warrior.  The 
thought  frightens  me.  What  if  she  should  take  it  into  her 
head  some  fatal  night  to  remove  our  scalps  ?" 

"  I  presume  she  has  learned  the  art  of  doing  it  well,"  said 
her  mother,  smilingly. 

"  Still  she  does  not  look  very  ferocious.  And  who  would 
Have  imagined  her  lineage  ?" 

"  Of  French  descent,  truly !    I  wonder  what  will  come  of 


THE  FATAL  SECRET.  109 

it?"  and  thus  the  two  talked  together  until  the  street  door 
opened,  and  Flora  entered. 

"  There  she  comes,"  exclaimed  Lena.  "  I  wonder  if  I  can 
lock  the  great  secret  in  my  heart,  and  appear  composed  ?" 

"  You  must  try,  at  least  for  the  present.  Edgarton  must 
certainly  have  some  reason  for  his  strange  conduct,  and  it 
is  not  for  our  interest  just  now  to  attempt  any  interference 
with  it.  But  one  thing  is  certain :  the  connecting  link 
between  him  and  this  child  of  a  beggarly  and  ignominious 
birth,  be  it  what  it  may,  must — yes.  shall — be  broken.  We 
must  keep  silence  for  a  few  months ;  then  the  ocean  will 
roll  between  them,  and  it  will  be  very  strange  if  the  music 
of  its  boisterous  waves,  as  Edgar  would  have  it,  does  not 
suggest  some  efficient  mode  of  action." 

A  peaceful  happiness  overspread  the  face  of  Flora,  as  she 
sat  that  day  at  dinner,  all  unconscious  of  the  satirical  looks 
that  were  certainly  aimed  at  her.  The  clouds  of  the  pre- 
ceding night  had  been  withdrawn,  and  the  bright  beams 
of  youthful  anticipation  came  silently  down  through  the 
vista  of  future  years,  and  shed  a  loving  light  upon  her 
present.  Beside  her  sat  Lura,  and  during  the  last  evening 
a  sympathetic  word  of  congeniality  had  been  drawing  more 
closely  the  two  hearts  together.  Opposite  sat  the  brother, 
whose  winning  smile  of  tenderness  she  knew  ever  beamed 
upon  her ;  and  notwithstanding  the  air  of  superiority  in 
which  he  enveloped  himself,  she  could  not  but  prize  and 
feel  grateful  for  it. 

The  bright  sunshine  had  melted  away  the  icy  covering 
of  the  walks,  and  Flora  tripped  lightly  and  easily  back  to 
the  afternoon  session ;  but  when  she  passed  the  new  build- 
ing at  the  corner,  she  stopped  a  moment,  as  she  thought  of 
her  morning's  adventure,  and  secretly  wondered  who  the 
dark-eyed  strangsr  could  be,  and  if  he  often  passed  that 
way. 

Lura  busied  herself  a  few  moments  in  the  dining-room 
after  the  family  had  all  left,  and  then  started  to  go  up  to 

19 


110  THE  FATAL  SECRET. 

her  own  apartment.  On  the  stairway,  much  to  her  sur- 
prise, she  encountered  her  brother,  who  had  not  yet,  ac- 
cording to  his  usual  practice,  left  the  house. 

"I  declare,  sis!"  he  exclaimed;  "Miss  Flora's  beauty 
must  be  contagious.  I  never  saw  you  look  so  well.  Your 
eyes  are  sparkling  with  a  new  light,  and  your  cheeks  really 
bear  a  bloom  that  even  Miss  Lena  must  covet,  and  the  old 
childhood  smile  has  returned  to  your  lips,  I  do  declare ! 
Ton  my  word,  I  believe  I  must  bless  this  fair  enchantress 
with  my  love.  What  say  you,  sis  ?" 

"  Not  a  bad  idea,  brother ;  she  may  diffuse  some  of  her 
charming  spirit  into  you." 

"  Well,  well !  it  may  be.  But  do  you  know  that  this 
cottage  is  to  be  honored  by  a  social  circle  of  the  undisputed 
kltie,  to-morrow  evening  ?" 

"  Certainly  I  did  not,  although  I  might  have  known  that 
something  unusual  was  going  on  had  I  taken  time  to  think 
about  it" 

"Yes,  Black  has  the  order  for  the  cakes  and  confec- 
tionery ;  and  I  suppose  it  is  to  be  a  splendid  affair,  con- 
sidering the  small  domain  over  which  our  fair  priestess 
presides,  and  all,  I  understand,  in  honor  of  a  rich  cousin 
of  Miss  Fenn,  Lena's  twin  star,"  he  continued,  ironically. 

"  Very  well,"  said  Lura,  tripping  up  the  stairs.  "  If  Miss 
Flora's  company  and  my  own  will  add  to  the  anticipated 
/£te,  no  doubt  we  shall  be  informed  of  the  fact." 

The  tranquil  mind  of  the  plain,  thoughtful  girl  was  not 
at  all  disturbed  by  this  disclosure,  and  the  afternoon  passed 
quickly  away.  She  had  found  a  flowery  field  of  pleasure, 
in  which  her  willing  feet  were  roaming.  Alone  she  sat  by 
the  cool,  bubbling  spring  that  sent  up  its  pure  sweet  waters 
from  the  hillside,  and  listened  to  its  soft,  enrapturing  music, 
enchanted  and  spellbound.  Sweet  fancies  play  around  the 
crystal  fountains  where  the  fair  Aonian  sisters  lingered  to 
sip  the  cooling  draughts,  and  Lura  wooed  and  won  them  to 
her  embrace. 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 
CLOUDS  AND  SUNSHINE, 

"TTTIIERE  is  Flora?"  asked  Lena,  as  the  family  were 

VY  seating  themselves  at  the  tea-table  on  the  evening 
of  the  entertainment. 

"Gone  home  with  a  friend  to  spend  the  evening,"  an- 
swered Lura,  very  calmly. 

"  Did  she  not  know  that  we  were  to  have  company  this 
evening  ?" 

"  How  should  she  ?  You  did  not  take  the  trouble  to  give 
her  the  information,"  answered  Lura,  with  the  same  cool 
gravity. 

"But  you  did?" 

"  You  have  apprised  me  of  no  such  remarkable  event  in 
our  history ;  upon  what  authority  could  I  inform  others?" 

"  Child,"  interrupted  the  mother,  quickly,  "  your  sarcasm 
is  very  provoking ;  how  can  you  talk  to  your  sister  in  that 
way?" 

Lura  continued  sipping  her  tea,  quite  unmoved. 

"The  effect  of  that  influence  which  is  daily  thrown 
around  her  by  that 'unprincipled  girl,"  remarked  Lena. 
"  I  propose  that  they  be  immediately  separated.  Fury 
will  become  quite  unmanageable,  if  she  goes  on  at  this 
rate." 

Lura  grew  very  pale  for  a  moment,  and  her  eyes  flashed 
with  anger  and  indignation;  but  recovering  herself  by  a 
great  effort,  she  recalled  the  retreating  glow  to  her  cheek 
and  lips,  and  the  steady  calmness  of  her  voice  remained. 

"  Brother  does  not  agree  with  you,  I  believe,  in  regard  to 

111 


112  CLOUDS  AND  SUNSHINE. 

the  character  of  that  new  influence  which  has  for  the  last 
few  months  been  thrown  about  me — do  you  ?"  she  asked, 
turning  toward  him. 

"  No — most  decided!  y,  no,"  he  answered,  with  great  em- 
phasis. "My  opinion  is" — moving  his  chair — "that  the 
influence  of  which  you  speak  is  a  most  powerful  renovator 
of  body  and  mind.  1-ook,  fair  sister,"  he  continued,  point- 
ing to  Lura's  beaming  face ;  "  did  you  ever  behold  brighter 
eyes  or  more  blooming  roses  than  those  which  now  adorn 
that  once  pale  cheek  ?  Ton  my  word,  Lura,  I  believe  you 
will  soon  be  the  flower  of  our  illustrious  family — I  do, 
indeed  I" 

"Undoubtedly,"  sneered  the  father,  as  the  son  arose, 
laughing,  from  the  table. 

Lena  did  not  look  at  the  face  to  which  her  brother  had 
directed  her  attention,  and  it  was  well  that  she  did  not,  for 
it  was  glowing  with  a  merriment  its  owner  did  not  care  to 
conceal,  and  a  look  of  conquest  which  one  would  naturally 
exhibit  over  a  subdued  foe  was  plainly  discernible  in  every 
lineament.  Very  quietly  she  attended  to  her  evening  duties 
below,  then  retired  to  her  little  room  above,  locked  the  door 
and  began  her  studies.  Now  and  then  she  was  interrupted 
by  the  unusual  sound  of  silver  and  plate  in  the  dining- 
room  ;  but  stopping  her  ears,  she  studied  on.  Then  came 
the  noise  of  carriage-wheels  at  the  gate,  the  sound  of  min- 
gling voices  in  the  hall  below,  loud  talk  and  laughter  upon 
the  stairs,  and  again  all  was  still.  A  look  of  annoyance 
passed  over  the  student's  face,  but  it^vas  soon  gone,  in  the 
interest  she  felt  in  the  subject  before  her. 

Ten  o'clock  came.  She  heard  the  deep  tones  of  the 
church -bell  proclaim  the  hour,  and  she  knew  that  Flora 
would  soon  return.  A  feeling  of  loneliness  for  the  first 
time  stole  over  her;  and  closing  her  book,  she  began  to 
Hsten  for  the  familiar  footsteps  upon  the  stairs. 

Nearly  an  hour  passed  away,  during  which  time  a  merry 


CLOUDS  AND  SUNSHINE.  113 

chorus  of  voices,  mingling  with  the  constant  din  of  active 
spoons,  glass  and  plate,  fell  like  strange  music  upon  the 
ears  of  the  solitary  girl,  and  a  secret  wonder  began  to  fill 
her  mind  as  to  the  cause  of  this  very  remarkable  entertain- 
ment. But  another  carriage  stopped  at  the  cottage  gate, 
and  soon  Flora  entered  the  hall  door.  Lura  had  forgotten 
her  impatience  in  the  thoughts  that  came  crowding  upon 
her  mind,  and  did  not  move  until  she  heard  Flora  vainly 
endeavoring  to  enter. 

Rising  at  once,  she  unlocked  the  door  and  threw  her 
arms  around  Flora's  neck,  with  an  apology  and  a  merry 
welcome  upon  her  lips,  when  she  perceived  that  Flora  was 
very  pale  and  trembled  with  excessive  agitation. 

"  Why,  my  dear,  what  is  it  that  troubles  you  ?  Are  you 
ill  ?  Let  me  take  off  your  wrappings  and  get  you  some- 
thing." 

"  No,  no,  my  dear  Lura ;  let  me  remain  quiet  for  a  few 
moments,  and  I  shall  soon  recover,"  she  answered,  feebly. 

Her  companion  complied,  and  taking  a  seat  beside  her, 
remained  silent  for  some  moments,  yet  without  removing 
her  eyes  from  the  troubled  face  of  her  friend,  who,  she  was 
very  sure,  was  not  suffering  from  any  physical  ailment, 
but  was  rather  overpowered  by  some  great  mental  suf- 
fering. 

Soon  the  burning  tears  began  rolling  down  Flora's 
cheeks,  and  her  whole  frame  shook  with  emotion. 

"  Dear  Flora,  do  not  condemn  me  to  silence,"  Lura 
plaintively  pleaded ;  "»I  cannot  endure  to  see  you  in  such 
distress  without  endeavoring  to  relieve  you.  Let  me  share 
your  trouble,  as  you  have  shared  mine,  and  made  me 
happy  in  so  doing.  Perhaps  I  too,  in  turn,  may  remove 
some  part  of  your  griefs.  Oh,  let  me  try.  Confide  in  me, 
your  humble  friend,  who  owes  you  more  than  a  whole  life- 
time of  devotedness  can  repay." 

Lura  pressed  the  little  trembling  hand  to  her  lips  with 
such  true  affection  that  Flora  raised  her  streaming  eyes  to 
10  • 


114  CLOUDS  AND  SUNSHINE. 

her  fac«  with  unconcealed  thankfulness.  At  last  she 
Bpoke. 

"Lura,"  ehe  asked,  with  trembling  voice,  "will  you 
always  love  me  ?  Though  bitter  tongues  should  stigmatize 
my  name,  will  you  still  always  be  my  friend— my  true,  un- 
flinching friend  ?" 

"Do  you  doubt  me,  Flora?  Oh,  that  would  be  agony 
indeed !  Do  you  not  remember  that  I  once  told  you  that 
in  my  heart  was  a  sealed  fountain  of  love,  and  that  if  some 
gentle  hand  of  affection  should  remove  the  barrier  it  would 
flow  forth  with  an  overwhelming  force  ?  Your  hand  has 
performed  that  work,  and  the  gushing  waters  have  carried 
away  much  that  was  unnatural  and  impure  in  my  heart, 
while  ita  sweet  music  has  brought  new  hopes,  new  desires, 
to  my  before  aimless  life,  changing  my  whole  nature,  con- 
verting the  barren  ground  into  a  blooming  paradise.  Can 
I  cease  to  love  one  who  has  performed  such  a  work  of  re- 
generation in  my  sluggish  soul  ?  Do  not  think  me  such  a 
wretch.  But  tell  me  what  troubles  you ;  and  if  necessary,  I 
will  remove  it  by  the  sacrifice  of  all  my  anticipated  joya 
and  my  present  blessings." 

Flora  was  greatly  moved  by  this  outburst  of  affection 
and  sympathy,  and,  laying  her  head  upon  Lura's  shoulder, 
wept  anew. 

"  Lura,"  she  said,  at  last,  after  stifling  her  emotion,  "  1 
thank  you  warmly ;  and  in  return  for  the  love  you  have 
lavished  upon  me,  I  will  in  a  moment  tell  you  the  cause  of 
my  distress.  I  entered  the  house  this  evening  with  a  heart 
litfht  and  joyous,  for  I  had  spent  a  very  pleasant  evening 
with  Kitty  Lane  and  her  most  excellent  mother.  As  I  closed 
the  hall  door  I  heard  a  voice  issue  from  the  parlor  that 
seemed  familiar  to  me,  although  I  had  heard  it  but  once 
before :  it  was  that  of  a  gentleman  who  kindly  rendered  me 
some  assistance  that  icy  morning  while  on  my  way  to 
•chooL  I  observed  that  he  was  engaged  in  a  spirited  con- 


CLOUDS  AND  SUNSHINE.  115 

versation  with  a  lady,  and  stood  apart  from  the  rest  of  tht» 
company.  I  feared  lest  .they  might  notice  me,  as  I  passed 
up  the  stairs,  and  I  stole  slowly  and  silently  along  in  the 
shadows,  when,  much  to  my  astonishment,  I  found  that  the 
encounter  of  which  I  have  been  speaking  formed  the  sub- 
ject of  their  conversation.  Then  my  own  name  was  men- 
tioned, and  I  stopped  to  listen.  Oh,  what  evil  power  pos- 
sessed me?  I  would  that  I  had  never  heard  those  cruel 
words  that  burned  into  my  very  soul !  Oh,  why  am  I  torn 
from  my  lowly  home  ?  Why  was  I  doomed  to  a  life  so  full 
of  thorns — so  full  of  cruel  bitterness  and  woe  ?  Better  that 
I  had  died  on  the  unhappy  bosom  which  pillowed  my 
infant  head,  happy  then  in  the  ignorance  of  my  own  shame, 
my  utter  nothingness,  than  to  be  thus  thrust  from  my  dark- 
ened life  into  the  blazing  light  of  worldly  wisdom  and  civ- 
ilization!" and  she  raised  her  hands  in  fervent  petition. 
"Oh  for  patience — for  resignation!  Ah,  yes!  how  much 
patience  we  need  while  contending  with  ourselves  and  the 
world!" 

"  Do  not  talk  so,  dear  Flora;  I  know  well  whose  tongue 
has  so  poisoned  your  peace.  But  banish  the  hateful  subject 
from  your  mind.  Let  this  room  be  our  fair  Utopia,  sacred 
to  happiness  and  peace.  What  do  I  care  where  your  life 
began — whether  in  the  South  Sea  islands  or  among  the  cold- 
hearted  Hottentots  ?  You  are  all  the  world  to  me  now,  and 
birth  and  lineage  could  no  more  diminish  my  love  than  a 
crowned  cannibal  could  create  it." 

"  Noble  girl !  This  little  room  shall  indeed  be  our  city  of 
lefuge.  Here  at  least  we  will  dismiss  the  world,  and  live 
in  a  sphere  of  our  own  creation." 

Thus  did  true  love  and  sympathy  bind  up  the  wounded 
heart,  wipe  away  the  tears  of  sorrow,  and  bring  back  to  the 
darkened  chambers  of  grief  the  blessed  sunshine  of  hope  and 
happiness.  And  thus  will  it  ever.  Thrice  blessed  is  this 
heavenly  mission  which  God  has  given  to  women,  and  fallen 


116  CLOUDS  AND  SUNSHINE. 

indeed  must  that  nature  be  which  not  only  turns  away  from 
these  kind  offices,  but  administers  the  dregs  of  malice  and 
discontent  in  place  of  the  oil  of  gladness  which  it  is  her  high 
privilege  to  pour  into  the  lacerated  bosom. 

Many  months  passed  away,  and  the  chamber  that  night 
consecrated  had  not  been  once  violated.  Yet  those  two 
hearts,  which  were  as  closely  united  as  ever,  had  often  been 
6;ul  and  weary,  and  many  times  tears  had  fallen  upon  the 
pillow  where  the  aching  head  was  resting,  hid  from  the 
other's  view  by  the  darkness  of  the  midnight  hour. 

All,  however,  had  not  been  darkness.  Many  bright  spots 
had  been  scattered  along  the  way,  and  of  all  these  the 
brightest  to  Flora  were  the  pleasant  hours  spent  with  Kitty 
Lane  and  her  mother  in  their  elegant  home.  Here  she 
could  throw  aside  the  mantle  of  indifference  with  which  she 
endeavored  to  shield  her  sensitiveness  from  the  bitter,  cruel 
words  of  scorn  and  irony  which  were  almost  daily  cast  at 
her,  and  freely  open  her  heart,  with  all  its  joys  and  sorrows, 
to  these  much  loved  ones.  Here,  too,  she  had  often  met 
the  young  seamstress  whose  pale,  sorrowful  face  had  so 
much  interested  her  at  their  first  meeting. 

One  evening  the  patient  Anna,  although  weary  from  many 
hours  of  toil,  had  been  obliged  to  stay  somewhat  later  than 
usual  to  finish  some  work,  and  the  two  girls  proposed  to 
accompany  her  home.  A  crimson  flush  passed  over  the 
face,  and  a  tear  for  a  moment  glittered  in  the  calm  blue  eye, 
but  Kitty's  fond  caress,  as  she  whispered,  "  We  just  want  to 
take  a  walk,  and  thought  you  would  like  to  have  us  keep 
the  whales  from  swallowing  you,"  brought  a  smile  to  her 
lips,  and  they  soon  started  off,  with  many  injunctions  from 
Mrs.  I^ne  to  be  sure  and  hurry  back  before  it  grew  dark. 

It  was  a  calm,  quiet  evening  in  early  summer,  when  the 
broad,  clear  sky  is  bluest  and  the  foliage  assumes  its  deepest 
hue  of  green,  when  the  bird  lingers  long  in  the  tree- tops  and 
sings  his  sweetest  songs  to  woo  his  tender  bride  to  his  covert- 


CLOUDS  AND  SUNSHINE.  117 

home,  and  the  young  flowers  raise  their  modest  heads  to 
sport  a  while  with  the  passing  breeze  before  they  fold  their 
fragrant  leaves  in  sleep. 

"  Isn't  this  lovely  ?"  exclaimed  Flora.  "  Somehow,  I  seem 
to  be  in  two  places  at  the  same  time — here  in  this  pleasant 
city,  and  yet  far  away  on  the  beach  of  a  distant  isle,  where 
I  have  so  often  stood  and  listened  to  the  pensive  waves  that 
talked  to  me  of  other  shores  where  they  had  murmured 
their  song  of  freedom,  and  of  other  scenes  over  which  was 
drawn  the  same  blue  arch  that  shut  me  in.  Oh,  I  have 
listened,  enchanted,  until  my  soul  seemed  to  have  forsaken 
its  prison-house,  and  I  beheld  it  on  the  crest  of  some  reced- 
ing wave  which  was  bearing  it  far,  far  away." 

"  What  a  strange  girl  you  are !"  said  Kitty.  "  You  really 
look  as  though  you  believed  every  word  you  have  been 
saying.  But  the  waves  don't  talk — you  know  they  don't, 
you  bewildered  enthusiast!  What  makes  you  say  that 
they  do?" 

'•  Why,  Kitty !  did  you  never  dream  ?" 

"Oh,  certainly.  You  were  dreaming,  then?  I  under- 
stand now  how  the  waves  could  talk ;  for  only  a  few  nighta 
ago  I  dreamed  that  my  Spanish  Congo  sang  Juliet  for  me, 
because  I  told  him  to." 

"  Yes,  but  I  dream  with  my  eyes  open ;  don't  you,  Miss 
Anna  ?" 

"  Oh  yes,  very  often,  but  not  as  I  used  to ;  dread  reali- 
ties chase  day-dreams  away.  But  I  can  understand  how 
such  an  evening  as  this  brings  back  happy  days  that 
crowding  events  had  wellnigh  covered  up,  for  sunny  hours 
often  come  to  me  from  the  past  to  cheer  my  loneliness, 
recalled  by  some  tiny  flower  or  sweet  familiar  note  in  a 
little  birdling's  song." 

"  Are  you  very  lonely  ?"  asked  Flora,  sympathetically. 

"  No ;  I  did  not  mean  that.  As  long  as  my  precious 
mother  lives  to  bless  me,  I  can  never  be  lonely." 


118  CLOUDS  AND  SUNSHI&E. 

They  had  reached  the  suburbs  of  the  city,  and  the  evtn- 
ing  shadows  were  deepening  around  the  small  cottages  that 
nestled  at  the  foot  of  Mount  Ida. 

"  I  cannot  take  you  farther,"  Anna  said,  abruptly ;  "  I  fear 
it  will  be  dark  before  you  can  get  home.  See,"  she  said, 
pointing  to  a  small  white  cottage  standing  upon  the  hill- 
side ;  "  there  is  my  home,  and  I  shall  not  be  '  swallowed ' 
l>efore  I  reach  it.  So  hasten  back,  lest  there  should  be 
anxiety  about  you." 

"  May  I  not  go  home  with  you  some  night  ?"  whispered 
Flora,  at  parting. 

"  If  it  will  give  you  pleasure,"  was  the  answer ;  and  quiet 
and  thoughtful,  Flora  walked  briskly  back  by  the  side  of 
her  vivacious  friend,  and  the  two  soon  reached  their  re« 
spectiva  homes. 


CHAPTER   XIX. 
ONE  MORE  UNFORTUNATE. 

TTTEDNESDAY  and  Saturday  afternoons  were  precious 
»  »  seasons  to  Flora.  Being  free  from  all  school  duties 
after  two  o'clock,  the  remaining  hours  were  spent  with 
Lura  in  their  little  room,  or  together  they  would  climb  the 
rugged  ascent  of  Mount  Ida,  whose  smooth  grasses  and  dei 
clivities  had  been  marred  by  the  hand  of  progress,  but 
upon  whose  summit  bright  green  fields  stretched  along  far 
and  wide,  while  the  woodlands  offered  a  cool,  inviting  re- 
treat to  all  who  were  desirous  of  their  silent  shade.  Here 
the  two  friends  would  sit  for  hours  upon  the  precipitous 
edge  of  the  deep  ravine  where  the  merry,  noisy  stream 
leaped  over  the  craggy  rocks  below,  laughing  and  sporting 
in  its  onward  course,  filling  the  air  with  its  inspiring 
music  and  lulling  the  weary  mind  to  repose  by  the  song  of 
its  own  restlessness. 

Thither,  one  hot  sultry  afternoon  in  June,  they  had 
strayed,  and  were  seated  beneath  a  clump  of  widespreading 
trees,  intently  and  silently  listening  to-  Nature's  various 
voices  that  penetrated  the  greenwood  shade.  Flora  had 
been  engaged  in  sketching,  her  usual  practice  during  these 
excursions ;  but  laying  her  paper  and  pencil  aside,  she  was 
resting  her  head  upon  her  hand,  and  sat  gazing  listlessly 
down  into  the  eddying,  bubbling  waters  some  distance  be- 
low her.  Lura  was  eagerly  reading,  her  whole  mind  ab- 
sorbed with  the  glorious  words  of  Milton,  who,  although 
dead,  still  speaks  to  the  appreciative  mind  with  burning 
eloquence;  and  roaming  as  she  was  in  the  unbounded  laby- 
rinth of  thought,  she  was  quite  unconscious  of  the  deep 
reverie  into  which  her  companion  had  fallen. 

119 


120  ONE  MORE  UNFORTUNATE. 

Suddenly  there  arose  upon  the  stillness  the  soft,  «  ir 
warbling  of  a  mournful  heart,  which  reverberated  upon  tfie 
motionless  air,  as  though  Memory's  fingers  were  slowly 
§traying  over  the  silver  strings  of  Affection's  lyre,  calling 
up  its  sweetest  notes  that  had  long  remained  silent,  though 
the  chords  had  never  been  unstrung.  Flora  warbled  on. 
It  was  one  of  those  wild  native  songs  she  had  learned  in 
her  early  childhood,  and  had  often  sung  with  the  birds  in 
those  distant  woods.  She  had  a  rich,  clear  voice,  full  of 
melody  and  sweetness  ;  and  as  its  soft  cadence,  so  heavily 
laden  with  other  days,  brought  back  scene  after  scene  of 
bygone  years,  it  sank  and  rose  in  pleasing  harmony  with 
her  waking  memories. 

Lura  had  been  recalled  by  those  sweet  tones  from  the 
flowejy  gardens  of  poesy  in  which  she  had  been  abstract- 
edly wandering,  and  with  closed  book  she  sat  and  listened 
to  the  wild  music  that  rang  in  her  ear.  The  voice  ceased ; 
and  as  its  soft  echoes  died  away,  Flora  raised  her  eyes  and 
beheld  directly  opposite  to  them,  on  the  other  side  of  the 
deep  ravine,  a  gentleman,  standing  leaning  against  the 
trunk  of  a  tree,  looking  steadily  at  them.  Flora  started, 
and  hastily  throwing  her  dark  straw  hat  upon  her  head, 
was  about  rising,  when  the  intruder,  waving  his  hand,  sud- 
denly disappeared. 

"  I  am  so  glad  he  has  gone,"  said  Lura,  pettishly,  "  for  I 
want  to  finish  '  Paradise  Lost '  before  we  go.  But  you  must 
not  sing  any  more,  or  you  will  call  up  the  spirits  that  haunt 
those  gray  old  rocks  yonder.  Where  did  you  learn  that 
wild,  mysterious  song?  I  never  imagined  anything  like  it 
— yet  how  beautiful !  You  must  sing  it  again  for  me  some 
time,  as  it  just  suite  me." 

"  Sing  it,  Lura  ?  I  was  not  singing.  It  was  the  wail  of 
departed  years  that  came  sobbing  up  through  my  pierced 
heart.  No,  I  was  not  singing,"  she  continued,  musingly  ; 
M  I  was  sighing,  sighing." 

Flora  again  threw  aside  her  hat,  and  resuming  her  paper 


ONE  MORE  UNFORTUNATE.  121 

and  pencil,  was  soon  absorbed  in  her  pleasing  task,  and 
Lura  began  to  read  again  with  renewed  interest.  A  full 
half-hour  passed  away  in  silence,  when  the  sinking  sun 
sent  his  silvery  rays  through  the  thick  foliage  and  fell  upon 
the  open  book. 

"See,"  said  Lura,  suddenly,  rising;  "it  is  almost  sun- 
down. How  late  we  have  stayed  I  Tea  will  be  over  before 
we  reach  home  if  we  do  not  hurry ;  and  an  edict  may  bo 
interposed  between  myself  and  these  delightful  ho'urs.  But 
it  will  soon  be  over.  I  have  worn  the  galling  yoke  for  many 
years,  but  I  can  almost  see  it  lying  at  my  feet.  Oh,  how  I 
long  to  break  it  I"  she  exclaimed,  as  with  buoyant  step  they 
bounded  away. 

Their  homeward  path  wound  around  by  the  moss-covered 
walls  of  the  old  cemetery,  and  the  tall,  white  marble  col- 
umns were  decked  with  a  halo  of  glory  by  departing  day. 

"  Our  next  visit,"  said  Flora,  in  passing,  "  must  be  to  this 
silent  city  of  the  dead.  I  would  like  so  much  to  walk 
among  these  tottering  monuments  of  long  ago,  and  read  the 
blurred  inscriptions,  relics  of  a -love  whose  burning  fires 
have  been  extinguished  by  a  common  hand,  that  of  relent- 
less Death.  Ah,  what  a  world  this  is!  love  and  hatred 
woven  together  upon  the  same  hearthstone,  and  their  smoul- 
dering ashes  mingle.  Hark!"  she  exclaimed,  suddenly, 
stopping  to  listen;  "did  you  not  hear  a  groan,  as  from 
gome  one  in  distress  ?  There  it  is  again !" 

"  Oh,  let  us  hurry  on,"  ejaculated  Lura,  trembling ;  "  it 
will  be  very  late  before  we  reach  home." 

"  No,  Lura ;  I  am  sure  that  some  one  is  near  us,  in  trouble. 
I  cannot  leave  so.  Yes,  there  it  is  again ;"  and  with  a  single 
bound  she  stood  upon  the  moss-covered  wall  and  was  look- 
ing down  upon  the  other  side.  She  waited  but  a  moment, 
then,  springing  down,  vanished  from  her  companion's 
eight. 

Lura  was  bewildered.    She  was  not  naturally  timid,  but 
the  hour  and  the  place,  alone  by  the  slumbering  dead, 
n 


122  ONE  MORE  UNFORTUNATE. 

accraed  to  fill  her  mind  with  a  fearful  awe,  and  she  stood 
for  a  moment  irresolute,  undetermined  whether  to  follow 
her  more  courageous  friend  or  await  her  return.  It  was 
only  for  a  moment,  for  the  sound  of  her  own  name  uttered 
by  Flora  aroused  her,  and  cautiously  she  clambered  up  the 
wall. 

"  Come  to  me,  Lura ;  here  is  a  poor  child  almost  dead,  1 
believe,  for  she  will  not  speak  to  me." 

"  I  aini  'most  dead,"  murmured  the  child.  "  I  wish  I 
was,  for  then  I  could  go  to  my  mother." 

"  Is  yeur  mother  lying  here?"  asked  Flora,  very  tenderly, 
endeavoring  to  raise  her  from  the  ground. 

"Yes,  yes!  See,"  she  exclaimed,  raising  herself  just 
enough  to  disclose  a  deep  excavation  in  the  earth  beneath 
her ;  "  I  am  going  to  dig  down  where  she  is.  Then  I'll  die 
and  be  with  her." 

The  two  girls  were  deeply  moved,  and  would  have  rea- 
soned with  the  little  mourner,  but  the  sun  was  sinking  fast 
behind  the  hills,  and  both  were  very  anxious  to  leave  a  spot 
where  so  many  gloomy  associations  surrounded  them,  before 
the  twilight  shadows  should  shed  an  additional  gloom  upon 
the  place. 

"  Come,  you  must  go  with  us,"  said  Lura,  almost  impa- 
tiently. "Tell  us  where  your  home  is,  and  we  will  take 
you  to  it." 

"Home!"  shrieked  the  child.  "I  haven't  any  home. 
Those  great  ugly  men  came  and  locked  the  door,  and  car- 
ried away  the  key,  and  said  I  must  go  and  live  with  Mrs. 
Powel.  But  I  won't  live  with  her;  she  isn't  good,  and 
whips  me  because  I  won't  call  her  mother.  Oh,  dear  mother, 
let  me  come  to  you !  oh,  let  me  come  to  you !"  she  cried, 
throwing  her  arms  over  the  grave  and  gobbing  as  though 
her  little  heart  would  break. 

Flora  wept  It  was  pitiful  to  see  the  look  of  utter  despair 
in  that  pale,  haggard  face,  and  to  listen  to  those  agonizing 
.exclamations  that  came  ebbing  up  from  that  young  heart. 


ONE  MORE  UNFORTUNATE.  123 

"  Poor  child  I"  she  said,  laying  her  hand  soothingly  upon 
her  disordered  hair ;  "  how  long  have  you  been  here  ?" 

"Two  long,  dark  nights.  But  I  wasn't  afraid,  for  she 
came  last  night  and  kissed  me  just  as  she  used  to,  and 
called  me  her  poor  child  of  sorrow,  and  I  am  going  to  stay 
here,  for  she  will  come  again." 

u  If  your  poor  mother,  who  sleeps  so  silently  down  then1 
in  that  grave,  could  speak  to  you,  she  would  tell  you  to  go 
with  us,  and  not  stay  out  here  alone,  for  it  will  make  you 
sick." 

"  Would  she?"  said  the  child,  raising  her  head  and  look- 
ing thoughtfully  into  the  face  beside  her. 

"  I  am  quite  sure  she  would,"  said  Flora. 

The  right  chord  had  been  touched.  The  child  arose  to 
her  feet,  and  would  have  fallen  had  not  Flora  caught 
her. 

"  You  are  ill,  poor  child!    What  can  I  do  with  you?" 

She  hesitated  but  an  instant,  then,  clasping  the  frail  form 
in  her  arms,  walked  steadily  away. 

"  You  do  not  intend  to  carry  that  child !"  said  Lura,  much 
surprised. 

"  A  little  way.    Perhaps  she  can  walk  by  and  by." 

Lura  offered  to  relieve  her  of  her  burden,  but  she  re- 
fused, and  they  hurried  on.  As  she  looked  into  the  little 
haggard  face  that  lay  so  quietly  upon  her  bosom,  and  saw 
the  wild  glare  of  her  dark,  brilliant  eyes,  she  forgot  her 
weariness,  and  walked  silently  and  thoughtfully  along. 

"  Let  me  get  down,"  said  the  feeble  voice  at  length,  and 
Flora  felt  for  the  first  time  that  her  strength  was  not  suffi- 
cient for  the  burden  which  she  had  assumed. 

"What  shall  you  do  with  her?"  asked  Lura,  as  they 
reached  the  city.  "  It  is  so  late  that  we  cannot  find  her 
home  to-night." 

"  No,  I  shall  take  her  home  with  me,  give  her  my  supper, 
and  make  her  a  bed  in  my  own  room." 

Lura  did  not  speak.    A  fearful  foreboding  had  taken 


124  ONE  MORE  UNFORTUNATE. 

possession  of  her  mind.  It  might,  however,  be  but  timid- 
ity, a  nervous  shrinking  away  from  every  unpleasant  con- 
flict, which  had  become  habitual  to  her  from  the  combined 
circumstances  of  years,  and  she  vainly  endeavored  to  drive 
it  from  her.  But  when  at  last  the  bright  light  glared  at 
the'm  from  the  window  of  the  cottage,  its  brilliant  rays 
seemed  to  whisper  a  caution,  and  Lura  would  gladly  have 
framed  some  pretext  to  dissuade  Flora  from  her  purpose. 
She  could  invent  none,  however,  and  they  entered  the  gate 
and  approached  the  front  door.  It  was  locked,  and  Lura 
rang  the  bell.  The  summons  was  soon  answered  by  Miss 
Lena,  who  appeared  with  a  frown  upon  her  face  which  she 
intended  should  be  perfectly  overwhelming. 

"  You  can  go  around  to  the  kitchen  the  next  time  you 
stay  out  as  late  as  this,"  she  said,  as  she  opened  the  door. 
"  What,  in  the  name  of  all  that's  honorable,  have  you  got 
there  ?"  she  continued,  as  Flora  advanced  with  the  trem- 
bling child. 

"  A  little  girl  we  found  in  the  cemetery,  and  I  shall  keep 
her  to-night,  as  it  is  too  late  now  to  think  of  finding  her 
home." 

"Not  here,"  exclaimed  Lena,  stamping  her  foot  with 
rage.  "No,  indeed!  It's  quite  enough  to  be  obliged  to 
harbor  one  beggar  beneath  our  roof,  without  being  forced 
to  open  our  doors  to  every  one  that  chposes  to  knock  for 
admittance." 

"  Lena,"  exclaimed  Lura,  stepping  between  her  and  the 
object  of  her  rage,  "speak  not  those  words  again,  or  as 
truly  as  English  blood  courses  in  my  veins,  you  shall 
repent  it" 

Lena  grew  very  pale,  and  for  a  moment  stood  irresolute 
before  this  unexpected  opposition  from  one  who  a  few 
months  before  would  have  withered  beneath  her  scorching 
anger  in  silence. 

"I  have  said  it,"  she  exclaimed,  her  teeth  firmly  set, 
"  and  your  impudent  threat  does  not  cause  me  to  swerve 


ONE  MORE  UNFORTUNATE.  125 

in  the  least.  Away  with  the  ragged  pauper;  she  shall 
not  enter  this  house.  It  has  been  already  too  long  con- 
taminated. If  Charles  Edgarton  chooses  to  descend  from 
Ids  present  position  into  the  very  slough  of  plebeianism,  he 
can  do  so.  I  will  not!" 

•'  I  have  no  words  to  bandy  with  you,"  Lura  remarked ; 
and,  turning  to  her  mother,  who  had  entered  the  hall  in 
time  to  hear  Lena's  last  words,  she  continued,  "  but  I  assure 
you,  mother,  that  if  ample  apology  is  not  offered  to  Flora 
for  this  cruel  and  wicked  language,  I  will  leave  my  house 
to-morro\v,  and  never  while  I  live  shall  these  feet  cross  the 
threshold  of  this  house,  where  I  have  spent  so  many  mis- 
erable years." 

The  mother  stood  aghast.  Could  this  be  Phelura,  the 
meek  and  humble  child  ? 

Lura  turned  a  moment,  as  she  paused,  to  look  at  Flora, 
when,  to  her  great  astonishment,  she  was  nowhere  to  be 
seen.  Quick  as  thought  she  darted  down  the  gravel  walk 
to  the  street,  ran  first  one  way,  then  the  other,  but  nothing 
could  be  seen  of  her  fugitive  friend. 

It  was  quite  dark ;  and  trembling  with  fear  and  anxiety, 
Lura  returned  to  the  house  after  a  half-hour's  fruitless 
search,  and  retired  to  her  own  room.  It  was  no  idle  threat 
which  she  had  made,  and  oh,  how  her  burdened  heart  did 
ache  as  she  threw  herself  upon  the  bed !  Where  was  Flora  ? 
She  did  not  fear  for  her,  for  well  she  knew  that  those  holy 
principles  which  pervaded  her  religious  life  encircled  her 
as  the  coat  of  mail  the  strong  man,  and  that  their  power 
was  sufficient  for  the  ills  that  entwined  her.  But  whither 
had  she  fled,  bearing  with  her  the  unknown  child?  Oh, 
how  desolate  appeared  that  little  room,  so  long  ago  dedi- 
cated to  "  peace  and  love  " !  The  fair  "  Utopia  "  had  been 
invaded,  and  peace  had  fled  for  ever — yes,  for  ever — and  for 
the  first  time  she  wept  as  the  thoughts  of  her  own  desola- 
tion crowded  chokingly  upon  her. 

Flora  had  started  back  as  the  fury  of  Lena's  anger  met 
11* 


126  ONE  MORE  UNFORTUNATE. 

her ;  but  when  Lura  stepped  between  them,  and  the  darknesa 
hid  her  from  sight,  she  caught  the  trembling  child  in  her 
arms  and  darted  down  the  path  which  led  to  the  gate  that 
opened  into  the  alley  in  the  rear  of  the  house.  She  then 
ran  hastily  along  until  she  reached  the  open  street,  when 
she  placed  the  child  upon  the  pavement,  and  taking  hold 
<  f  hor  hand,  bade  her  haste  as  fast  as  possible.  Ten 
minutes'  walk  brought  her  to  the  elegant  home  of  her  par- 
ticular friend,  Kitty  Lane.  She  did  not  stop  to  meditate, 
as  she  glanced  at  the  dark  building,  which  seemed  to  look 
frowningly  down  upon  her,  or  she  might  have  faltered  in 
her  purpose.  Unclosing  the  heavy  gate,  she  passed  into 
the  yard,  and  thence  on  to  the  kitchen  door.  She  was 
greeted  with  inquiring  looks,  as  she  entered,  but  she  heeded 
them  not,  and  hurriedly  placing  the  little  girl  in  a  chair, 
turned  to  a  black  servant,  with  whom  she  knew  herself  to 
be  a  great  favorite,  and  asked  her  to  attend  to  the  poor 
child  for  a  moment  while  she  went  to  see  Mrs.  Lane. 

"Sartinly  I  will,  miss;  but  where  did  you  get  the  wee 
bit?" 

Flora,  saying  she  would  tell  her  by  and  by,  darted  away. 

The  child  had  not  spoken,  and  the  sage  old  Fanny  stood 
looking  at  her  with  a  perplexed  air. 

"  Now,  I've  sartin  seen  that  wee  thing  afore,"  she  sail,  at 
last,  scratching  her  head,  as  if  to  call  up  slumbering  recol- 
lections— "just  as  sartin  as  I  live.  Oh,  massy  sakes !"  she 
exclaimed,  springing  forward  as  fast  as  her  aged  limbs 
would  permit.  "  Biddy,  Biddy !"  she  called,  with  a  loud 
voice,  although  that  remarkable  person  was  in  the  same 
room.  "  Do  see !  The  child  is  dying !" 

"She's  fainted,  that's  all,"  said  the  rotund  Biddy,  ap- 
proaching slowly  and  with  a  movement  of  great  superiority. 
But  Fanny  had  laid  the  child  gently  upon  the  floor,  and 
applied  some  camphor,  taken  from  a  little  bottle  which  she 
always  carried  in  her  roomy  pocket,  for  the  reason,  as  she 
asserted,  that  "  life  was  so  onsartin,"  and  in  response  to  her 


ONE  MORE   UNFORTUNATE.  127 

active  exertions  the  little  sufferer  soon  moaned  as  in  a 
troubled  sleep,  and  finally  opened  her  eyes  and  looked 
wildly  about  her. 

In  the  meantime,  Flora  had  ascended  to  the  drawing- 
room,  where  Mrs.  Lane  sat,  apparently  alone,  by  the  centre- 
table,  reading.  Flora  stealthily  approached  her,  threw  her 
arms  affectionately  about  her  neck,  and  kissed  the  beautiful 
face  that  was  turned  quickly  toward  her. 

"  Ah  !  ma  belle  Flora,"  she  exclaimed,  "  how  you  startled 
me!  What  has  brought  you  out  to-night?  I  thought 
you  were  always  so  busy  that  I  could  never  have  this 
pleasure." 

Flora  had  hesitated,  not  knowing  how  to  commence  the 
story  of  which  her  heart  was  so  full.  At  last  she  whispered, 
"  My  dear  friend,  I  am  in  trouble,  and  had  nowhere  to  go 
but  to  you."  Here  her  voice  failed  her,  and  big  tears  choked 
her  utterance. 

" Ma  belle  petite"  said  Mrs.  Lane,  caressing  the  weeping 
girl,  who  still  clung  about  her  neck,  "  tell  me  all  that  per- 
plexes you.  How  dare  any  one  give  you  trouble,  my  lovely 
one?" 

Flora  dried  her  tears,  and  told  her  of  her  afternoon's 
ramble,  and  of  the  poor  little  ragged  child  that  had  been 
the  unconscious  cause  of  her  present  annoyance.  "  And 
oh,"  she  exclaimed,  raising  her  voice  with  the  excitement 
she  was  powerless  to  control,  "  she  told  me  their  house  had 
long  been  contaminated  by  the  presence  of  a  beggar,  and 
God  knows  this  to  be  untrue.  I  never  begged,  neither  did 
I  seek  the  shelter  of  their  roof.  But  I  do  come  to  you  to- 
night, begging,  not  for  myself,  but  for  this  suffering  child." 

"Where  is  she?"  said  Mrs.  Lane,  arousing  herself  to  a 
.'•.ill  consciousness  of  the  circumstances. 

"  I  left  her  in  the  kitchen  with  black  Fanny  while  1  earne 
to  see  you." 

"  Let  us  go  to  her  at  once;"  and  she  followed  Flora  fiom 
the  room. 


128  ONE  MORE  UNFORTUNATE. 

During  this  scene  two  gentlemen  were  sitting  at  the 
farther  end  of  the  spacious  apartment  in  the  shadow  of  a 
bay-window  which  opened  upon  the  balcony.  Flora  had 
not  perceived  them. 

"A  fine  tableau,"  said  Mr.  Lane,  as  the  ladies  dis- 
appeared. 

"  The  finest  I  ever  witnessed.  But  the  dark-eyed  beauty 
seemed  in  trouble,  and  I  should  judge  from  the  few  worda 
that  reached  my  ear  that  some  one  had  been  very  cruel  to 
her." 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  Lane,  musingly,  "she  boards  with  the 
Edwards',  and  I  never  liked  the  overbearing  spirit  they 
always  seem  to  manifest  Yet  I  know  little  of  them,  and 
have  very  little  desire  to  know  more." 

His  companion  was  silent.  Mr.  Lewis  Fenn  had  been 
quite  a  frequent  visitor  at  the  cottage  since  the  entertain- 
ment, and  had  at  least  been  nattered,  if  not  much  pleased, 
by  the  particular  attention  shown  him  on  all  occasions. 
He  thought  Miss  Lena  very  pretty,  and  her  smile  particu- 
larly winning,  while  her  amiability  was  certainly  undeni- 
able. She  had  often  spoken  of  "  her  poor  dear  sister,  who 
pertinaciously  shrank  from  all  society  on  account  of  her 
plain  face,"  with  actual  tears  dimming  her  mild  blue  eyes. 
"  And  Flora,  too,  would  certainly  kill  herself  by  her  devo- 
tion to  study."  "  No  doubt,"  she  said,  at  one  time,  while 
dilating  at  length  upon  the  subject, "  she  would  gladly  over- 
come by  education  the  repugnance  of  society  in  regard  to 
he-  parentage.  I  really  pity  her." 

How  could  so  many  delectable  sweets  emanate  from  a 
bitter  fountain  ?  The  young  man  could  not  understand  it, 
yet  he  would  not  for  this  reason  willfully  close  his  eyes  and 
say  that  he  would  not  believe  it.  Ah,  no !  stubborn  facts, 
like  nauseous  pills,  sometimes  must  be  swallowed;  and 
although  disagreeable  at  first,  they  are  almost  always  sure 
to  benefit  the  sufferer. 


CHAPTER  XX. 
FOR  EVER  GONE. 

u  T  KNOW  dat  chile  jes  like  a  book,"  said  Aunt  Fanny,  aa 

J-  she  was  universally  called,  upon  entering  the  room 
next  morning  where  the  little  sufferer  lay  tossing  upon 
her  bed. 

"Where  did  you  know  her,  aunty?"  asked  Flora,  who 
was  sitting  beside  her,  holding  the  little  fevered  hands  in 
her  own. 

"Why,  I  seen  Mrs.  Powel  thrashin'  her  most  drefful 
t'other  day,  when  I  was  gwine  down  to  see  Jim  Brown's 
wife.  I  heard  her  screams,  so  I  jes  looked  over  de  fence, 
and  dat  face  looked  at  me  jes  as  it  do  now — so  pitiful  like ; 
I  couldn't  stan  it,  and  so  I  got  away  quick,  and  when  I 
came  back  I  took  another  street." 

"  Poor  child  I  how  she  has  suffered !  But  is  this  all  you 
know  about  her  ?" 

"Oh,  sartin;  I  never  seed  her  'fore  nor  since.  But  I 
knowed  her  as  soon  as  I  sot  my  eyes  on  her,  but  I  wasn't 
quite  sure  till  now." 

Mrs.  Lane  entered  soon  after,  and  seated  herself  by 
Flora. 

"  You  may  leave  us,  Fanny,  for  a  few  moments ;  then  I 
shall  want  you  to  sit  by  the  child  while  this  dear  girl  takea 
a  little  rest." 

Aunt  Fanny  obeyed,  and  the  two  were  alone  with  the  in- 
sensible child. 

"  I  want  to  talk  with  you  a  few  moments,"  said  the  lady, 
affectionately,  taking  the  hand  of  Flora ;  "  may  I  ?" 

129 


130  FOE  EVER  GONE. 

"  Certainly,  my  dear  friend ;  I  shall  be  pleased  to  hear 
whatever  you  may  have  to  say." 

"  And  be  pleased  also  to  do  whatever  I  may  wish  ?" 

"  If  I  can." 

"  Well,  you  can,  my  pretty  one ;  so  I  may  be  sure  that 
you  will." 

Flora  smiled,  but  did  not  answer. 

*:  My  husband  and  myself  have  been  talking  over  your 
unjust  treatment,  and  have  concluded  that  you  must  not 
put  yourself  in  the  way  of  another  insult  by  going  back 
into  the  Edwards  family,  but  that  you  must  stay  with  us. 
Kitty  will  be  so  happy  to  have  you  for  a  companion,  and 
I  shall  enjoy  your  society  so  much.  I  love  you,  dear  girl. 
You  seem  a  woman  to  me,  and  have  found  a  cosy  place  in 
my  heart.  Now  for  a  fulfillment  of  your  promise ;"  and  she 
drew  her  toward  her,  and  kissed  her  forehead.  "  I  claim 
it.  Kitty  does  not  know  that  you  are  here,  and  I  only  wait 
for  your  word  to  go  and  tell  her  all." 

"  Oh,  I  cannot,  I  cannot,"  said  Flora,  covering  her  face 
with  her  hands  and  weeping  bitterly. 

"  You  cannot?  what  does  this  mean  ?  I  thought  to  make 
you  happy,  and  here  you  are  weeping  as  if  your  heart  would 
break.  Tell  me,  Flora,  why  you  cannot.  Would  you  not 
be  happy  with  us  ?  Ah !  I  thought  you  loved  me,  Flora," 
she  said,  much  moved. 

"  Oh,  I  do  love  you,  more  than  words  can  tell,"  sobbed 
the  weeping  girl ;  "  but  I  have  learned  a  lesson  during  the 
last  twelve  hours  which  I  never  can  forget.  I  thank  you 
from  the  fullness  of  my  orphan  heart  for  your  kind  offer, 
and  will  so  far  accept  it  as  to  remain  with  you  until  this 
poor  child  recovers  or  shall  need  my  care  no  longer.  Then, 
if  it  be  possible,  I  will  find  some  place  where  I  can  work  for 
my  board,  or  give  up  the  school  and  seek  some  means  of 
livelihood." 

"  Pardon  me,"  said  Mrs.  Lane,  taking  her  hand,  "  but  I 
had  heard  that  a  rich  relation  of  the  Edwards  family  had 


FOR  EVER  GONE.  131 

brought  you  here  for  the  purpose  of  giving  you  an  education. 
Was  I  misinformed?" 

Flora  did  not  speak  at  first.  Her  thoughts  were  busily 
hurrying  over  the  last  few  months,  and  something  about  its 
many  incidents  seemed  mysterious  to  her  now.  She  had 
never  received  but  one  letter  from  him,  which  she  had 
answered  as  directed,  and  Lena,  some  weeks  before,  had  told 
her  that  she  had  just  heard  from  Edgarton,  who  was  about 
to  take  a  tour  through  Scotland  in  company  with  his  mother 
and  a  Lady  Eveline,  to  whom  he  was  betrothed.  Strange 
she  had  not  thought  more  of  it  at  the  time,  but  the  dreadful 
reality  had  come  to  her  now.  Yes,  if  he  had  not  forgotten, 
he  had  at  bast  grown  tired  of,  her  very  soon — much  sooner 
than  she  had  expected. 

"  It  is  not  idle  curiosity  which  prompts  the  inquiry,"  said 
Mrs.  Lane,  interrupting  her  reverie ;  "  but  I  would  like  to  do 
you  good." 

"  I  know  it,"  said  Flora,  "  and  can  trust  you.  All  you 
have  heard,  no  doubt,  is  true.  I  never  should  have  been 
here,  had  it  not  been  for  Sir  Charles  Edgarton.  But  things 
have  changed,  and  I  must  now  act  for  myself." 

Flora  arose  to  administer  something  to  the  sick  child, 
who  was  rolling  from  side  to  side  and  throwing  her  little 
arms  about  in  a  wild  delirium  of  fever. 

"  Oh,  it  is  hard,"  she  said,  "to  see  the  innocent  suffer,  and 
have  no  power  to  relieve  them." 

"  What  did  the  doctor  say  of  her  this  morning  ?"  asked 
Mrs.  Lane. 

<l  That  he  could  not  positively  determine  her  case  at  his 
fi  rst  visit,  but  that  he  should  not  be  surprised  if  her  suffer- 
ings were  soon  over.  How  piteously  she  calls  upon  her 
mother !  and  how  that  mother  must  have  struggled  with  the 
fell  destroyer  when  she  knew  that  her  helpless  child  would 
be  left  alone  to  fight  with  puny  hands  the  angry  billows  of 
life!" 

"  You  talk  strangely.    Have  your  few  years  been  «*o  full 


132  FOR  EVER  GONE. 

of  sad  experience  that  it  has  changed  you  thus  early  into  a 
sage  philosopher  ?  What  do  you  know  of  the  angry  billows 
of  which  you  so  wisely  speak  ?  I  tell  you,  my  pretty  one, 
there  is  more  sunshine  in  life  than  storm  and  tempests,  if 
we  do  not  convert  every  little  mischievous  gale  into  a  whirl- 
wind. But  come,  I  haven't  on  my  Solomon's  cap  this 
morning,  and  I  want  you  to  tell  me  a  little  more  about 
yourself.  Why  did  you  say  that  things  had  changed,  and 
that  you  must  seek  some  way  of  gaining  a  livelihood  ?  I 
have  lived  longer  than  you,  ma  belle,  and  perhaps  know 
more  of  changing  human  nature  than  yourself.  If  I  can 
help  you,  I  am  anxious  to  do  so." 

"  You  are  very  kind,  and  there  is  no  one  else — not  even 
Lura — in  whom  I  would  confide  so  much.  Sir  Charles  was 
very  kind,"  she  continued,  blushing  deeply,  "  and  provided 
everything  I  could  wish,  and  much  more  than  I  had  any 
idea  I  should  need,  making  arrangements,  as  he  told  me, 
for  the  payment  of  all  my  school  bills  during  the  next  four 
years  before  he  left.  He  promised  to  write  me  very  often,  and 
exacted  a  promise  from  me  that  I  would  answer  every  letter 
promptly,  and  assured  me  that  at  the  termination  of  my 
school  duties  he  would  return." 

"  Well,  this  is  all  fair.  Has  he  kept  his  part  of  the  con- 
tract thus  far  ?" 

"  I  have  received  but  one  letter,  and  that  I  answered 
months  ago." 

"Strange!  But  I  will  think  of  this,  Flora.  I  cannot 
make  up  my  mind  that  the  programme  of  your  eventful 
history  is  to  be  so  suddenly  changed  as  you  seem  to  suppose. 
Man  is  indeed  fickle,  but  not  more  so,  according  to  my  esti- 
mate of  character,  than  many  a  one  of  our  own  sex.  I  can 
see  no  adequate  reason  in  this  case  which  should  bring  about 
such  a  sudden  revolution  in  so  generous  a  heart.  Do  not 
be  unhappy,  ma  belle;  all  will  yet  be  right.  There  is  the 
breakfast-bell.  I  will  send  Fanny  to  you ;  then  you  must 
come  and  join  us  below." 


FOR  EVER  GONE.  133 

So  saying,  she  affectionately  patted  the  cheek  of  the 
blushing  girl,  and  glided  from  the  room. 

"  Ah  !  how  little  she  knows  of  the  dark  shadowy  path  on 
which  my  feet  must  travel!  A  petted  child  of  fortune, 
loving  and  beloved,  happy  in  the  sunshine  of  prosperity 
in  which  she  has  ever  basked,  how  can  she  penetrate  tin 
gloom  which  ever  surrounds  my  lonely  existence  ?" 

Aunt  Fanny  entered;  and  once  more  bathing  the  hot 
burning  brow  of  the  sick  child,  she  turned  to  leave,  when 
she  hesitated,  as  she  reached  the  door,  and  stopping,  said, 
"Aunty,  where  does  this  Mrs.  Powel  live  of  whom  you 
spoke  a  short  time  ago  ?" 

"  Why,  'way  down  on  Sixth  street,  jes'  few  doors  this 
side  of  Jim  Brown's.  But  ye's  ain't  gwine  to  go  dar,  Miss 
Flora?" 

"  Yes,  I  am  going  immediately  after  breakfast." 

"  Oh,  massy !  I  wouldn't  be  hired.  She's  got  such  an 
awful  red  head,  and  looks  jes  like  a  picter  I's  seen  in  a 
book." 

Laughingly  Flora  assured  her  that  red  heads  had  no 
special  horror  for  her,  and  left  the  room. 

Within  an  hour  afterward  Flora  and  Kitty  were  on  their 
way  to  Mrs.  Powel's.  It  was  a  beautiful  morning,  and  the 
cool,  fresh  breeze  fanned  them  pleasantly,  as  they  walked 
briskly  on  beneath  the  shadows  of  the  rich  green  trees  and 
the  palatial  walls  that  sheltered  them  from  the  warm  rays 
of  the  summer  sun.  Flora  was  very  silent  during  their 
rapid  walk,  for  a  cloud  drooped  over  her  young  spirits  and 
shut  out  the  cheering  light  which  at  times  looked  invitingly 
upon  her  from  the  future. 

"Well,"  said  Kitty,  as  they  had  almost  reached  their 
destination,  " you  haven't  said  anything  but  'yes'  and  '  no' 
since  we  started.  It  is  tiresome  for  me  to  do  all  the 
talking." 

"Is  it?"  said  Flora,  endeavoring  to  arouse  herself.  "I 
humbly  beg  your  pardon  for  my  silence;  but  I  have  no 

12 


134  FOR  EVER  GONE. 

doubt  you  will  hear  talking  enough  soon,  if  Aunt  Fanny's 
predictions  are  fulfilled." 

"  What  shall  you  say  to  her?  For  my  part,  I  fee!  afraid 
of  that  luminous  top-knot.  There  may  be  a  contagious 
fever  lurking  in  it,"  said  Kitty,  with  a  hearty  laugh,  in 
which  Flora  joined,  at  the  same  time  assuring  her  there 
was  no  danger  if  she  did  not  open  her  mouth. 

"  That's  she,  I'll  wager  my  new  shoes,"  said  Kitty,  with 
an  assumed  timidity,  as  they  beheld  before  them  a  short, 
fat,  red-faced  woman  emerging  from  a  low  hovel  with  a 
broom  in  her  hands.  "  Yes,  for  I  see  the  red  locks  sticking 
out  beyond  her  green  sun-bonnet.  That's  she,  and  that 
broomstick  looks  to  me  like  a  portentous  weapon." 

"  Good-morning,"  said  Flora,  mildly,  as  they  approached 
her. 

The  green  sun-bonnet  was  raised  to  an  angle  of  about 
forty-five  degrees,  while  a  pair  of  dark,  piercing  eyes  glared 
at  her  from  beneath. 

u  Is  this  Mrs.  Powel?" 

"  That's  my  name,"  she  responded,  without  moving  her 
eyes. 

"  I  came  to  inquire  about  a  little  girl  who  was  with  you 
a  few  days  since." 

"I  don't  know  anything  about  the  girl;  and  what  is 
more,  I  don't  want  to,"  she  replied,  tartly,  and  her  broom 
commenced  its  morning  task  with  a  vigor  that  seemed  in- 
tended to  silence  all  further  attempts  at  conversation. 

"  A  perfect  Juno  in  stateliness  and  dignity,"  whispered 
Kitty,  merrily. 

Flora  suppressed  her  rising  mirth,  and  dodging  the  vol- 
umes of  dust  that  came  whirling  toward  her,  again  said, 

"  I  thought  perhaps  you  might  like  to  hear  of  her,  as  I 
could  give  you  some  important  information.  But  as  you 
do  not,  perhaps  you  will  tell  me  her  name." 

This  aroused  her  curiosity;  and  suspending  her  active 
duties,  the  green  bonnet  once  more  pointed  in  the  dkec- 


FOR  EVER  GONE.  135 

tion  of  the  speaker,  and  a  volley  of  glances  was  again  fired 
at  her. 

"  Oh  yes,  I'll  tell  you  her  name.  It's  Clara  Saunders, 
and  her  mother  died  in  that  next  house  there  three  weeks 
ago ;  and  as  I  have  no  children,  I  promised  to  take  the  will- 
ful child  as  my  own,  but  I  couldn't  do  anything  with  her ; 
and  when  she  ran  away  from  me  a  few  days  ago,  I  made  up 
my  mind  she  might  stay  away — I'd  have  nothing  more  to 
do  with  her,  neither  will  I." 

"  Have  you  any  clothing  in  your  possession  which  belongs 
to  her?" 

"  Well,  yes ;  there's  a  small  trunk*  here  with  a  few  things 
in  it;  but  she  didn't  have  much,  for  her  mother  was  poor 
and  proud — proud  as  Lucifer,  too,  I  tell  you." 

Flora  told  her  she  would  send  for  the  trunk,  and  was 
about  turning  away,  when  the  woman  exclaimed, 

"  Look  here !  You  didn't  tell  me  what  you  knew  about 
her." 

Flora  laughed.  Kitty  gave  her  arm  a  very  uncomfort- 
able pinch. 

"  I  thought  I  would  not  trouble  you  with  information 
which  you  do  not  care  to  hear,"  she  answered,  with  pro- 
voking gravity. 

The  broom  made  two  or  three  nervous  movements,  then 
settled  down  again. 

"  Tell  me  what  you  know  about  her,"  was  the  abrupt 
demand. 

"  Certainly,  if  you  wish  it.  I  found  her  yesterday  pros- 
trated with  exhaustion  on  her  mother's  grave,  and  brought 
her  home  with  me.  She  is  now  lying  dangerously  ill  at  the 
house  of  a  friend,  caused,  as  the  physician  informed  me,  by 
excitement  and  exposure." 

"  Humph !"  was  the  only  reply  Flora  heard ;  and  as  the 
broom  once  more  commenced  its  rapid  motions,  the  two 
girls  hastened  away. 

"  What  made  you  tell  anything  ?"  said  Kittv,  when  they 


136  FOR  EVER  GONE. 

were  again  out  of  hearing  distance.  "  I  would  have  let  hei 
die  with  a  famishing  curiosity.  No  doubt,  in  such  a  case, 
the  world  would  have  canonized  your  name  for  the  deed." 

"Oh,  fie,  Kitty!  She  is  not  the  worst  specimen  of 
female  depravity  with  which  I  have  come  in  contact,  for 
ehe  has  at  least  one  recommendation  to  favor,  and  that  is 
her  naked  depravity.  She  does  not  'smile  and  smile, 
though  a  villain  still,'  piercing  the  sensitive  heart  with  a 
poisoned  barb,  coated  over  with  honeyed  words,  as  the  an- 
gler hides  the  pointed  hook  beneath  the  tempting  bait. 
Such,  Kitty,  I  have  learjied  to  dread.  But  there  is  no  trou- 
ble with  the  woman  we  have  just  left ;  the  hook  is  bare, 
and  we  can  swim  sportively  around  it." 

That  evening  Flora  fully  intended  to  return  to  the  cot- 
tage for  a  short  time,  and  prepare  her  trunks  for  their  re- 
moval. The  poor  sick  Clara,  however,  moaned  so  piteously, 
as  she  tossed  upon  her  bed,  that  she  could  not  leave  her, 
but  stood  untiringly  beside  her  for  hours,  bathing  the 
parched  lips  and  brow,  and  cooling  the  fevered  limbs,  un- 
til she  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  the  little  sufferer  sink 
into  a  peaceful  slumber. 

"You  have  workedmiracles," said  the  kind-hearted  phy- 
sician, as  he  beheld  the  patient  quietly  sleeping.  "  If  we 
can  keep  the  fever  checked  as  it  is  now  for  twenty-four 
hours,  I  can  promise  the  most  favorable  results." 

"  It  shall  be  done,"  said  Flora,  resolutely ;  "  I  will  not 
leave  her  during  that  time,  nor  relax  my  energies." 

The  physician  smiled  pleasantly  upon  her,  as  he  retired, 
and  Flora  prepared  herself  for  a  long  and  tiresome  vigil. 

"  It  will  kill  you,"  said  Mrs.  Lane,  who  was  vainly  en- 
deavoring to  reason  away  her  absurdity,  as  she  termed  it. 
"  You  look  sick  this  minute." 

"  Did  you  never  hear  of  deceitful  looks  ?"  said  Flora, 
smilingly. 

But  Kitty  declared  that  she  would  hide  herself  in  the 
ceiling,  and  make  hideous  noises  to  frighten  her  off  V>  bed. 


FOE  EVER  GONE.  137 

"  So  listen  ;  and  if  you  hear  a  noise,  just  look  aghast  and 
run  for  your  life." 

Flora  engaged  to  do  so  if  she  was  frightened,  and  then  was 
left  for  the  night.  Then  came  the  long,  lonely  hours  which 
move  so  slowly  and  wearily  away.  But  as  her  hands  were 
constantly  occupied  in  works  of  charity  and  mercy,  her 
thoughts  also  became  busy,  and  kept  time  with  their  rest- 
less motion.  Ah !  that  precious  keepsake  which  but  a  few 
months  before  had  been  so  tenderly  whispered  in  her  ear 
and  enshrined  in  her  trusting  heart  as  the  guiding  divinity 
of  her  earthly  ambition !  How  could  it  be  that  in  so  short 
a  time  the  casket  could  be  shattered  and  the  frail  forget- 
me-not  lie  crushed  and  withering  in  the  dust  ?  Then  that 
gentle  look  of  tenderness,  the  farewell  kiss,  were  they,  too, 
wholly  gone  ?  Ah,  no !  A  tear  came  ebbing  up  from  the 
desolate  heart,  as  from  its  most  secret  consecrated  chamber, 
and  echo  answered,  "  No,  no !"  Then,  as  she  knelt  by  the 
bed.  there  arose  upon  the  midnight  hour  a  fervent  petition 
for  strength,  for  power  to  rebuild  her  crumbled  hopes,  and 
to  people  the  slender  castle  with  pure  and  holy  aspirations 
and  humble  desires.  Then  came  the  peaceful  spirit  of  hap- 
piness and  illumined  all  the  darkness,  driving  away  the 
grim  shadow  of  discontent  and  filling  her  soul  with  thank* 
fulness  and  praise. 

"  When  the  past  is  darkly  clouded, 
And  the  future  thickly  shrouded, 
And  the  heart  is  faint  and  weary, 
While  life's  path  looks  dull  and  dreary, 
Turn  from  all  these  scenes  away 
To  Him  who  kindly  bids  thee  pray. 
11  • 


CHAPTER  XXI. 
THE  BIRDS  FLOWN. 

FLORA  felt  amply  repaid  when  Dr.  Hillman  pronounced 
his  patient  very  much  better ;  and  when,  at  last,  the 
little  sufferer  opened  her  eyes  and  looked  calmly  upon 
her,  with  their  wild  vacant  glare  all  gone,  she  felt  a  joy 
creeping  into  her  heart  that  it  had  not  known  for  many 
days. 

"  Let  me  relieve  you  for  a  little  while,"  said  a  sweet,  low 
voice  close  to  her  elbow,  and  Flora,  turning,  saw  the  pale 
young  seamstress  standing  beside  her.  "  You  must  be  very 
weary,  and  need  some  rest.  Mrs.  Lane  was  coming,  but  a 
friend  called,  and  she  wished  me  to  come  in  her  place." 

"  You  are  very  kind,"  said  Flora ;  "  and  if  you  can  sit 
here  for  half  an  hour,  I  will  take  a  short  walk." 

Anna  assenting,  Flora  left  the  room.  She  had  an  un- 
pleasant task  before  her,  and  oh,  how  she  wished  it  were 
performed !  She  soon  reached  the  door  of  the  cottage.  She 
hesitated.  How  could  she  meet  them?  Yet  her  heart 
yearned  for  the  warm  sympathy  and  true  affection  of  her 
one  cherished  friend  within.  How  had  Lura  borne  the 
separation  ?  Thoughts  like  these  pressed  upon  her  mind, 
as  with  slow  and  anxious  step  she  ascended  to  the  door. 
It  was  locked.  Without  ringing  the  bell,  as  she  at  first  in- 
tended, she  quickly  descended  the  steps  and  went  around 
to  the  kitchen.  All  was  pilent. 

She  began  to  fear  that  the  cottage  was  deserted,  when  a 
low,  murmuring  sound  reached  her  ear.  It  proceeded 
from  the  faithful,  kind-hearted  servant  girl,  who  was  rever- 
ently bowed  befor*?  i  gjpoll  crucifix  which  she  held  in  her 

138 


THE  BIRDS  FLOWN.  139 

hand,  and  engaged  in  chanting  in  monotonous  tones  her 
"  Ave  Maria "  to  the  holy  Virgin,  whom  she  had  been 
taught  in  her  ignorance  to  adore.  The  girl,  hearing  a  step 
upon  the  threshold,  hastily  sprang  to  her  feet  with  loud 
exclamations  of  joy  and  surprise. 

"  Ah !  ye's  come  to  see  a  sorry  day,  Miss  Flora,"  she  ex- 
claimed, rubbing  her  hands  with  great  fervor.  "  A  sorry 
day  it  was  when  they  drove  ye  from  this  house." 

"What  is  the  matter,  Mary?"  asked  Flora,  calmly, 
"  Does  any  one  here  grieve  because  I  am  away  ?" 

"  And  didn't  Miss  Lura  walk  the  floor  all  night,  honey, 
when  ye  was  gone?  And  last  night  didn't  she  take  her 
clothes  and  lave  her  home  kase  ye's  wasn't  in  it?  Didn't 
she,  honey  ?" 

"  Mary,  has  Lura  gone  ?"  exclaimed  Flora,  springing  for- 
ward and  grasping  the  toil-stained  hand  of  the  weeping 
Irish  girl. 

"  Gone,  is  it  ye  say  ?  As  true  as  the  howly  Virgin  hears 
and  answers  prayers,  she  left  last  night ;  and  here's  a  little 
paper  she  tould  me  give  ye." 

Flora  snatched  the  paper  from  her  hand  eagerly,  and 
breaking  the  seal,  read  as  follows : 

"  DARLING  FLORA  :  The  yoke  is  broken.  I  step  from  be- 
neath this  roof  to-night,  never  again  to  return,  until  I  enter 
bearing  some  other  appellation  than  the  menial '  Fury.'  I 
shall  not  lose  you ;  we  shall  meet  again.  LURA." 

Flora  was  much  excited ;  but  waiting  to  hear  no  mon 
ehe  hurried  up  the  stairs,  and  reached  the  little  chambei 
once  their  own,  without  encountering  any  one.     Here, 
much  to  her  surprise,  she  found  her  trunks  nicely  packed, 
and  the  keys  in  their  secret  hiding-place.     None  but  Lura 
could  have  done  this ;  and  seating  herself  by  the  window, 
she  gave  herself  up  to  the  grief  which  she  could  no  longer 
Buppress.  Tears  fell  fast,  as  she  thought  of  the  many  happy 


140  THE  BIRDS  FLOWN 

hours  they  had  spent  together  in  that  room.  Now  an  un- 
known future  was  before  them.  Yet  one  ray  lighted  up  the 
darkness :  Lura  had  promised  that  they  should  meet.  Oh, 
when  would  it  be  ?  Where  had  she  gon^  ?  It  was  cruel  in 
her  not  to  reveal  her  present  retreat.  Had  she  done  so, 
how  quickly  she  would  have  flown  to  her ! 

Her  reveries  were  interrupted  by  the  opening  of  the 
door,  and  she  beheld  the  tall,  straight  figure  of  Mrs.  Ed- 
wards entering.  There  was  a  subdued  expression  upon 
those  thin  features,  and  a  sorrowful  look  in  those  cold 
gray  eyes,  which  awoke  a  feeling  of  sympathy ;  and 
although  her  first  inclination  had  been  to  flee  from  the 
room,  she  held  out  her  hand  to  the  grief-stricken  mother, 
with  a  feeling  akin  to  affection  springing  up  in  her 
heart. 

"  Oh,  Flora,  tell  me  where  my  child  is,"  she  exclaimed, 
as  tears  gathered  in  her  eyes;  "tell  me  where  she  has 
gone !" 

"  It  would  give  me  more  pleasure  than  you  can  imagine 
if  I  were  able  to  do  so ;  but  unfortunately,  I  am  as  ignorant 
as  yourself  in  regard  to  her  movements." 

"Did  you  not  know  that  she  was  going  to  leave  her 
home?" 

"  I  knew  nothing  of  it  until  I  entered  this  house  a  few 
moments  ago ;  and  I  was  very  much  grieved  that  she  had 
done  so." 

The  mother  sank  upon  the  floor  in  utter  dejection. 

"Oh,  my  child,  my  child!"  she  moaned;  "who  could 
have  thought  it  would  ever  come  to  this  ?  What  can  she 
do,  poor,  ignorant,  unsophisticated  girl?  Who  will  care 
for  her  or  give  her  a  home  ?" 

"  Perhaps  you  have  not  taken  the  trouble  to  inform  your- 
self as  to  her  acquirements,"  said  Flora,  with  some  indigna- 
tion. "I  do  not  deem  her  very  ignorant.  With  her  un- 
usually keen  perceptive  powers  and  greedy  love  for  books, 
J  doubt  much  if  she  is  entirely  unfitted  to  stand  forth  alone, 


HE  BIRDS  FLOWN.  141 

if  need  be,  among  the  more  sophisticated  ones  to  be  found 
in  the  world  whither  she  has  gone.  But  you  have  my 
heartfelt  sympathies,"  she  added,  softening,  as  she  saw  the 
big  tears  coursing  down  the  mother's  pale  cheeks;  "and 
if  it  were  in  my  power,  I  would  this  day  restore  her  to 
you." 

"  You  will  not  leave  us  ?"  said  Mrs.  Edwards,  as  she  saw 
Flora  rising,  as  if  to  depart.  "  Oh,  stay  with  us,  and  she 
will  come  back.  See  my  gray  hairs !  They  will  soon  be 
brought  in  sorrow  to  the  grave  if  my  child  come  not  back 
to  me." 

Flora  was  deeply  moved,  and  would  have  spoken  con- 
solation to  the  mother's  heart,  but  what  could  she  say  after 
all  that  had  passed  ? 

"  No,"  she  answered,  "  I  cannot  stay  here.  The  only 
means  within  my  power  of  removing  contamination  from 
this  house  is  to  remove  myself.  My  low  parentage  has 
been  revealed  to  you  through  some  medium  of  which  I  am 
ignorant.  I  scorn  for  myself  to  conceal  it.  It  has  been  the 
subject  of  conversation  outside  of  your  family  circle ;  and 
to  wipe  out  the  stain  which  my  presence  among  you  has 
been  deemed  to  bring,  I  must  seek  another  home  where  my 
companions  will  be  less  fastidious." 

Mrs.  Edwards  looked  up  in  surprise,  but  only  to  see  the 
retreating  figure  of  Flora  glide  through  the  door  and  vanish 
from  sight. 

Flora  had  drawn  her  veil  closely  over  her  face,  and  was 
hurrying  rapidly  down  the  stairway,  dreading  some  new 
encounter,  when  she  felt  her  hand  tightly  clasped,  and 
Edgar  Edwards,  the  son  and  brother,  stepped  before 
her. 

"  Oh,  let  me  go,"  she  pleaded ;  "  I  have  stayed  quite  too 
long  already." 

"  No,  no ;  you  shall  not  leave  in  such  haste.  I  am  com- 
missioned with  Lena's  petition  for  pardon,  and  must  beg 
you  to  accept  it" 


142  THE  BIRDS  FLOWN. 

"Tell  her  from  me  that  she  receives  full  absolution  at 
my  hands,"  she  said,  attempting  to  pass. 

"Then  you  will  come  back  to  us,  and  bring  peace 
once  more  to  our  circle?"  he  said,  with  a  pieaoant 
Bmile. 

"  No,  that  was  more  than  was  comprised  in  the  aoso- 
lution.  There  are  circumstances  which  will  ever  prevent 
my  taking  up  my  abode  again  under  this  roof." 

"  But,  Miss  Flora,  if  I  choose  to  remove  those  circum- 
stances? You  will  then  think  differently?" 

"  It  will  require  a  power,  sir,  which  you  do  not  possess," 
said  Flora,  again  endeavoring  to  go. 

"  Nay,  do  not  attempt  to  pass  me.  I  feel  that  you  are  in 
trouble,  and  that  it  is  my  duty  to  try  to  relieve  you.  I  un- 
derstand, as  well  as  any  one,  the  great  distance  which  lies 
between  our  relative  positions  in  the  eyes  of  the  world,  but 
I  love  you,  Flora ;  and  if  you  will  take  my  hand,  I  will  lift 
you  up  to  stand  beside  me.  Then,  as  my  wife,  your  birth 
and  lineage  will  be  forgotten."  Here  his  petted  chin  re- 
ceived its  wonted  fond  caress,  and  his  long  taper  fingers 
Bought  his  abundant  hair. 

Flora  had  forgotten  her  perplexities  during  this  brief 
speech,  and  while  laughter  sparkled  in  her  eyes,  and 
played  with  mischievous  delight  all  over  her  beautiful 
face — 

"Oh,  I  beg  of  you  not  to  sacrifice  so  much  nobility  for 
my  especial  benefit,"  she  said,  with  mock  gravity.  "  How- 
ever much  I  may  feel  honored  by  your  condescension,  I 
can  never  consent  to  so  unequal  a  union.  Permit  me,  sir, 
to  remain  in  the  obscurity  in  which  nature  has  been  pleased 
to  place  me,  and  in  which  alone  I  feel  myself  capable  of 
walking." 

This  was  more  than  the  honored  scion  of  an  illustrious 
line  had  any  reason  to  expect.  He  could  not  readily  com- 
prehend all  that  he  had  heard;  and  while  he  stood  in 
blushing  confusion,  unable,  in  so  short  a  time,  to  frame 


THE  BIRDS  FLOWN.  143 

another  speech  appropriate  to  the  occasion,  she  had  darted 
past  him  and  was  flying  with  rapid  steps  down  the 
street. 

Kitty  met  her  in  the  hall ;  and  after  despatching  Jim  for 
her  trunks,  they  hurried  together  up  the  stairs. 

Flora  looked  into  the  sick-room  for  a  moment,  where 
'Anna  had  been  relieved  by  the  chambermaid,  a  bright, 
rosy-cheeked  girl  of  about  her  own  age,  and  then  passed  on 
v,  ith  Kitty  to  Mrs.  Lane's  boudoir,  whither  the  latter  had 
been  commissioned  to  bring  her. 

"  Ah,  ma  belle  /"  exclaimed  that  lady.  "  See,  Kitty,  what 
a  lovely  glow  there  is  upon  her  cheek!  But  there  is  a 
brighter  one  in  her  eye.  Tell  me,  petite,  what  has  happened 
to  you." 

"My  face,  I  must  believe,  indicates  every  current  of 
feeling  in  my  heart.  Henceforth  I  am  determined  to 
veil  it,  if  it  does  not  cease  being  such  a  tell-tale." 

"  That  I  would,"  said  Kitty,  laughing,  "  for  it  not  only 
exposes  your  own  heart,  but  it  goes  round  stealing  every- 
body else's." 

"True,  true,"  said  Mrs.  Lane.  "But  pretty  blossoms 
were  not  made  to  be  covered — ah,  no ! — but  rather  to  be 
admired  and  loved ;"  and  she  drew  the  face  of  her  own 
beautiful  child  down  upon  her  bosom,  and  kissed  it 
with  all  a  mother's  devoted  tenderness. 

"  Flora,"  she  said,  a  moment  after,  "  a  lady  friend  called 
upon  me  this  afternoon  who  said  she  would  be  glad  to  re- 
ceive little  Clara  into  her  family,  if  she  proves  upon  recov- 
ery to  be  a  good  child,  as  a  playmate  and  companion  for 
her  little  daughter.  I  thought  it  a  fine  opportunity  to 
secure  a  home  for  her,  and  therefore  told  her,  with  your 
consent,  I  should  consider  her  pledged  to  this  particular 
act  of  kindness." 

"  I  am  very  glad,"  said  Flora,  "  if  she  will  be  gentle  with 
the  poor  child,  and  I  leave  it  all  with  you.  A  heart  so 
good  will  not  be  led  into  error." 


144  THE  BIRDS  FLOWN. 

"  Oh,  you  silly  flatterer !  Away  with  you,  both  of  you," 
§he  said,  pushing  them  from  her.  "  See  that  you  adorn 
yourselves  with  a  becoming  toilet  before  you  come  down 
to  tea,  for  there  will  be  a  pair  of  brilliant  eyes  staring  at 
you,  I  dare  say." 

"  Pshaw,  mamma !  who  cares  for  Mr.  Fenn  ?  He  thinks 
more  of  his  favorite  authors,  as  he  calls  them,  than  of  all 
the  pretty  faces  in  the  world." 

That  evening,  when  Flora  entered  the  tea-room,  she  was 
astonished  to  see  the  dark-eyed  stranger — her  "  hero  of  ice," 
as  she  had  often  called  him — standing  by  the  table,  waiting 
to  receive  the  ladies.  The  whole  of  her  amusing  adventure 
came  up  before  her  in  lively  colors,  as  she  caught  a  look  of 
those  deep,  dark  orbs,  as  they,  for  a  moment,  rested  upon 
her,  and  her  native  mirthfulness  came  dancing  back  to  her 
eyes  and  lips.  Mrs.  Lane  whispered  in  her  ear,  confiden- 
tially, as  they  were  retiring  to  the  drawing-room  after  tea, 
"  that  smiles  were  particularly  becoming  to  her  charming 
face,  and  that  she  must  try  and  never  be  sad." 

"  Does  neither  of  the  young  ladies  play  ?"  asked  Mr. 
Fenn,  approaching  the  piano.  "Mrs.  Lane  has  been  so 
exceedingly  kind  in  gratifying  my  love  for  sweet  sounds 
that  I  fear  to  trouble  her  further." 

"  Yes,"  said  Kitty,  "  Flora  is  called  the  best  performer  in 
our  class,  and  she  sings  enchantingly." 

"  Oh,  Kitty  !"  exclaimed  Flora,  blushing  deeply. 

"  It's  true,  Mr.  Fenn.    Do  make  her  sing." 

Flora  looked  pleadingly  at  the  thoughtless  girl,  but  Mrs. 
Lane  whispered  "  that  there  was  no  one  there  who  need  in- 
timidate her,  and  that  afterward  they  would  have  a  good 
excuse  for  insisting  upon  a  display  of  Miss  Kitty's  musical 
abilities." 

She  hesitated  but  for  a  moment;  and,  when  Mr.  Fenn 
offered  her  his  arm  to  assist  her  to  the  instrument,  she 
arose  at  once,  and  complied.  Her  fingers  ran  at  first  care- 


THE  BIRDS  FLOWN.  145 

lessly  over  the  keys,  then  settled  down  upon  a  soft,  mild 
prelude  of  one  of  the  airs  then  in  particular  favor.  Before 
she  had  finished,  Kitty  exclaimed, 

"  Not  that  one ;  I  didn't  want  you  to  sing  that.  Sing  my 
favorite — the  one  I  like  so  much." 

Flora  obeyed;  and  as  her  rich  voice,  with  its  clear,  sweet 
intonations,  filled  the  room  with  its  melodious  sounds,  as 
she  warbled  one  of  her  native  songs  with  its  simple  accom- 
paniments, her  attentive  listener  stood  entranced,  filled 
with  wonder  and  admiration.  Then  she  arose,  and  the 
young  man,  standing  beside  her,  mutely  spake  his  thanks 
when  their  eyes  met  while  walking  back  to  the  sofa  upon 
which  Mrs.  Lane  and  Kitty  were  sitting. 

"  Sublime !"  whispered  Mrs.  Lane,  as  Flora  took  her  seat 
beside  her.  "You  must  grace  some  of  my  soirfea  next 
winter." 

Thus  happily  flew  the  weeks  away.  Clara  Saunders  had 
recovered  and  gone  to  her  new  home,  where  Flora  had 
promised  to  call  and  see  her  often ;  and  yet  she  lingered  in 
the  elegant  home  of  Kitty  Lane.  . 

Oh,  how  anxiously  she  awaited  some  information  con- 
cerning her  dear  friend  Lura  !  Yet  it  came  not.  A  faint 
hope  had  taken  possession  of  her,  and  retarded  her  exer- 
tions to  procure  a  home  for  herself,  and  that  was  that  she 
might  once  more  enjoy  the  society  of  one  who  had  cheered 
her  through  so  many  lonely  hours.  This  had,  however, 
passed,  and  to-morrow  she  should  begin  her  work;  no 
longer  would  she  remain  a  helpless  dependant  upon  the 
kindness  of  friends.  How  little  she  understood  the  diffi- 
culties which  would  cluster  about  the  task  which  she  had 
imposed  upon  herself!  Who  would  take  into  their  house 
without  any  recommendation  a  beautiful  girl,  richly  dressed, 
to  perform  menial  labor  with  which  she  was  almost  entirely 
unacquainted?  Yes,  it  was  true.  What  did  she  know  of 
the  work  which  she  would  be  expected  to  perform  if  she 
assumed  a  servant's  place?  The  thought  overpowered 


146  THE  BIRDS  FLOWN. 

her ;  and  sinking  into  a  chair,  she  buried  her  face  in  her 
hands  and  wept  bitterly. 

"Yet  it  must  be  done.  I  will  lay  aside  these  costly 
fabrics,  which  are  so  illy  fitted  to  my  present  need,  and 
dress  myself  in  apparel  becoming  my  station.  Too  long 
have  I  remained  here,  a  humble  recipient  of  a  bounty 
which  I  can  never  repay." 

Thus  she  said  to  herself,  rising  to  her  feet,  and  walking 
to  the  window,  where  she  stood  gazing  upon  the  passing 
figures  in  the  street  below. 

"  There  is  one  whose  bounty  I  cannot  shake  off — at  least, 
at  present.  If  my  talents  do  not  deceive  me,  this  shall  be 
fully  compensated.  Yes,  I  vow  it — it  shall  be  paid  to  the 
uttermost  farthing!  This  shall  be  my  future  ambition. 
Toil,  toil,  is  before  me ;  but  an  object  to  be  attained  shall 
ever  cheer  me  on,  and  my  spirits  shall  not  droop." 


CHAPTER  XXII. 
AN  UNEXPECTED  MEETING. 

A  CCORDING  to  her  new  resolve,  Flora  searched  the 
J\.  daily  papers  the  next  morning  to  find  some  open- 
ing, if  possible,  where  she  could  at  once  commence  earn- 
ing her  own  livelihood.  From  the  long  list  of  "  Wants  " 
she  selected  two  which  she  thought  most  likely  to 
meet  her  present  wishes,  and  taking  the  direction  down 
upon  a  slip  of  paper,  carefully  concealed  it  in  her  pocket. 

"  You  seem  remarkably  devoted  to  the«  morning  news," 
said  Kitty,  coming  up  behind  her  and  peering  over  her 
shoulder.  "Ah  ha!  Arrival  of  the  ' Vanderbilt.'  Per- 
haps you  are  expecting  that  nice  young  Englishman.  If 
BO,  I  must  hurry  Anna  up  with  my  new  silk,  for  I  assure 
you,  if  he  appears  here  again,  you  don't  carry  him  off 
without  a  struggle." 

"  You  can  let  Anna  toil  leisurely  on,"  said  Flora,  laugh- 
ing, "  for  no  English  bone  of  contention  is  expected  by  me ; 
that  is  certain." 

"It  is,  is  it?  Well,  then,  Diogenes,  just  jump  out  of 
your  tub,  and  let  us  practice  that  last  waltz;"  saying  which, 
the  merry  girl  caught  Flora  in  her  arms,  and  the  two  were 
soon  whirling  up  and  down  the  spacious  apartment,  laugh 
ing  and  singing  by  turns,  their  cheeks  glowing  with  the 
active  exercise,  and  their  flowing  curls  mingling  in  sportive 
grace,  as  they  threaded  through  the  mazy  dance,  until, 
giddy  and  exhausted,  they  sank  down  upon  the  sofa  to 
rest. 

"  There  I"  said  Flora,  gathering  her  rich,  abundant  curls 


148  AN  UNEXPECTED  MEETING. 

in  her  hands ;  "  if  I  am  to  caper  very  often  after  this  fashion, 
these  suffocators  will  be  twisted  up  this  way ;"  and  suiting 
the  action  to  the  word,  she  wound  them  tightly  in  a  large 
coil  behind  her  head. 

Kitty  clapped  her  hands,  and  laughed  loudly : 

"  Upon  my  word,  Flora,  you  look  like  my  aunt  Sue.  I 
wish  Mr.  Fenn  could  see  you  now ;  he  wouldn't  have  the 
audacity  to  tell  me  again  that  you  are  prettier  than  I." 

Flora  was  enjoying  the  merriment  of  her  friend  exceed- 
ingly, and  did  not  at  first  notice  that  she  had  suddenly  be- 
come silent;  but  upon  looking  up,  she  saw  Mr.  Fenn 
standing  in  the  door,  his  large,  dark  eyes  filled  with  the 
contagious  mirth  he  had  encountered. 

"  Capital,  capital !"  exclaimed  Kitty,  clapping  her  hands, 
as  she  perceived  that  Flora's  eyes  had  fallen  upon  the  in- 
truder, and  that  she  was  hastily  undoing  her  hair.  "He 
saw  you.  Now^tell  me  upon  your  honor,"  she  said,  ap- 
proaching the  spot  where  he  stood,  "  is  she  prettier  than  I  ? 
I  mean  will  she  be  when  old  age  has  pulled  all  her  hair 
out?" 

Flora  was  very  much  mortified,  and  would  have  hurried 
from  the  room,  but  Mr.  Fenn  was  coming  toward  her  with 
his  hand  extended  and  an  apology  upon  his  lips.  She  re- 
ceived them  both  with  much  embarrassment;  and  as  he 
took  a  seat  beside  her,  Kitty  again  exclaimed, 

"  Now  that  you  have  gone  through  these  preliminaries, 
tell  me  quickly :  is  she  more  beautiful  than  I  ?" 

"Who  shall  decide  between  the  stately,  blushing  roso 
jnd  the  pretty,  soul-cheering  forget-me-not?"  he  said, 
quietly;  "I  cannot.  The  most  I  do  know  about  them 
is  that  the  wcrld  WDU.I  be  very  imperfect  without  either." 

"  Oh,  you  perverse  man !  The  rose  is  the  prettiest,  you 
know  it  is ;"  and  she  pouted  her  pretty  lips.  "  The  very 
next  time  you  ask  me  how  I  like  that  dashing,  conceited 
lady  with  whom  I  saw  you  walking  one  evening,  111  just 
whisper  'forget-me-not.'  How  will  you  like  that?"  she 


AN  UNEXPECTED  MEETING.  149 

asked,  laughing,  and  turning  away,  took  her  seat  at  the 
piano  and  commenced  playfully  drumming  some  familiar 
air«. 

It  was  his  turn  now  to  look  confused;  but  taking  a 
magazine  from  his  pocket,  he  asked  Flora  carelessly  if  she 
had  seen  the  last  number  of  Harper.  She  had  not ;  and  he 
continued : 

"It  has  a  new  contributor  this  month,  and  the  editor 
comes  out  with  a  notice  very  unusual  for  his  staid  pen,  and 
the  article  is  certainly  deserving  of  it.  A  perusal  would 
compensate  you  for  the  trouble.  Here  it  is,"  he  said,  sud- 
denly pausing,  as  he  turned  over  the  leaves.  "  It  is  en- 
titled '  Echoes  of  the  Night,  by  a  Listener,'  and  it  has  a 
depth  of  thought  and  a  power  of  imagination  that  are 
seldom  found  in  magazine  articles  in  these  days,  proceed- 
ing from  a  truly  poetic  mind,  full  of  the  wildest  imaginings, 
yet  replete  with  good  taste  and  abounding  in  marks  of 
genius." 

Flora  had  taken  the  book,  and  was  busily  engaged  in 
the  perusal  of  the  page  pointed  out  to  her,  and  did  not 
hear  the  remarks  which  were  intended  for  her  ear.  There 
was  something  strikingly  familiar  in  the  first  few  sentences. 
Where  had  she  heard  them?  Still  she  read  on,  until 
Kitty  again  approached  them,  declaring  it  was  time  that 
very  minute  that  they  were  preparing  for  school. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Flora,  closing  the  book  and 
turning  to  the  gentleman.  "  I  did  not  intend  to  read  it  in 
your  presence,  but  became  suddenly  interested  and  los4 
as  I  proceeded." 

"  Another  favorite  author,  I  suppose,"  said  Kitty,  with 
feigned  pettishness.  "How  glad  I  am  that  I  am  not  a 
bookworm !  Flora,  if  you  ever  write  for  the  public  good, 
as  these  poor  scribblers  pretend  they  do,  I  will  not  love 
you." 

"  No  danger,"  said  Flora,  laughing;  <-I  shall  be  too  busily 
engaged  in  teaching  ideas  how  to  ahoot  to  play  with  the 

13* 


150  J.N  UNEXPECTED  MEETING. 

fire  of  poesy  or  plod  along  the  old  beaten  track  of  lit- 
erature." 

"  Going  to  turn  schoolmarm  ?  Upon  my  word !  we'll  see 
about  that.  I'd  like  to  know  how  long  such  a  glorious 
ambition  has  had  possession  of  your  brain,  to  the  entire 
exclusion  of  common  sense.  But  come  along,  or  I  shall 
have  another  exclamation  point  added  to  my  name  which 
it  will  give  me  some  trouble  to  remove." 

Flora  arose,  and  Mr.  Fenn  accompanied  her  to  the 
door. 

"  Will  you  sing  for  me  to-night  ?"  he  asked,  as  he  took 
her  hand  at  parting.  His  manner  was  so  gentle  and  his 
words  so  full  of  brotherly  tenderness  that  she  involuntarily 
raised  her  eyes  to  his  face,  filled  with  answering  interest. 

"  With  pleasure,"  she  answered,  "  if  I  return  in  time.  I 
have  a  short  walk  to  take  after  school,  and  may  not  get 
back  until  after  tea." 

"  I  will  not  come  until  that  time  j"  and  bowing  his  morn- 
ing adieu,  he  left  the  house. 

Flora's  heart  palpitated  all  day  as  she  thought  of  the 
disagreeable  task  which  awaited  her.  It  is  always  sad  to 
break  up  old  associations  and  seek  new  ones ;  but  when 
the  present  is  unusually  full  of  brightness,  and  we  are  well 
assured  by  the  change  we  take  a  downward  step  in  the 
scale  of  happiness,  the  prospect  is  rendered  doubly  un- 
pleasant by  the  vivid  contrast.  She  was  very  happy  in  the 
home  in  which  she  seemed  so  firmly  rooted.  Circum- 
stances were  continually  environing  her  to  increase  her 
joys  and  render  the  sundering  of  such  congenial  bonds 
each  day  more  painful.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lane  were  so  very 
kind  and  solicitous  for  her  happiness,  and  Kitty,  she  well 
knew,  had  already  begun  to  think  of  her  as  a  companion 
upon  whom  she  could  rely  for  future  fellowship,  little 
dreaming  that  her  adopted  sister,  as  she  often  called  her, 
would  soon  voluntarily  sever  the  tie  that  bound  them. 
Poor  Floral  Her  heart  almost  faltered  as  she  thought  of 


AN  UNEXPECTED  MEETING.  151 

the  opposition  she  would  be  sure  to  meet  from  this  source. 
But  no ;  it  must  not  be.  Firmly  had  she  determined  to 
break  the  fetters  of  dependence  which  she  found  were  gall- 
ing her  young  spirits  with  their  heavy,  depressing  weight. 

Tne  school  in  which  she  had  entered  as  pupil  was  just 
the  one  to  aid  her  in  her  future  plans.  When  the  time  ar- 
rivea,  she  would  enter  the  list  of  teachers,  ready  for  any 
situation  which  might  be  procured  ;  and  among  the  many ' 
applications  which  Mrs.  Willard  was  almost  constantly  re- 
ceiving, she  was  confident  there  would  be  some  chance  for 
her,  although  she  had  not  at  first  entered  for  that  purpose, 
as  the  greater  portion  of  the  pupils  before  her  had  done. 
Should  twio  part  of  her  resolve  be  effected,  of  which  she 
had  not  n  shadow  of  doubt,  the  rest  would  be  quite  easy. 
Yes,  she  would  again  be  free.  Study  and  toil  were  before 
her,  yet  unflinchingly  she  gazed  at  them,  and  nerved  her- 
self for  the  contest. 

It  was  late  that  evening  when  she  walked  with  slow  but 
firm  step  along  one  of  the  pleasantly  shaded  streets  in  the 
upper  portion  of  the  city.  The  sun  had  long  since  disap- 
peared behind  a  thick,  dark  cloud  which  came  rolling  up 
from  the  far  west,  emitting  ever  and  anon  its  low,  dismal 
threatenings,  while  the  vivid  lightnings  sent  their  wild 
flashes  in  quick  succession  across  the  broad,  black  curtain 
that  hung  in  terrific  grandeur  along  the  western  sky. 
There  was  a  look  of  deep  dejection  on  the  face  of  Flora  as 
she  hurried  on,  regardless  of  the  gathering  storm.  Soon 
she  stopped,  looked  at  a  slip  of  paper  which  she  held  in 
her  hand,  then  at  the  door  of  a  large  brick  building  be- 
fore which  she  was  standing.  For  an  instant  a  slight  pal- 
lor stole  over  her  features,  then,  with  a  firm  resolve,  she 
ascended  the  steps  and  rang  the  bell.  A  servant  appeared, 
of  whom  she  inquired  for  Mrs.  Goodale.  With  much  civil- 
ity she  was  shown  into  the  richly-furnished  drawing-room 
where  several  ladies  and  gentlemen  were  engaged  in  an- 
:mated  conversation.  All  were  suddenly  silent,  however, 


152  AN  UNEXPECTED  MEETING. 

as  the  servant  announced  the  visitor.  A  matronly,  middle* 
aged  woman,  showily  attired,  motioned  her  to  approach ; 
and  trembling  in  every  limb,  Flora  complied. 

"I  saw  an  advertisement  in  the  morning  papers,"  she 
said,  "  and  in  accordance  with  its  directions  have  called." 

A  very  audible  titter  came  from  the  sofa  near,  but  she 
did  not  turn  her  eyes  in  that  direction,  as  she  continued, 
her  voice  betraying  her  emotion, 

"  I  tholight  perhaps  I  could  fill  the  position  to  your  sat- 
isfaction and  my  own." 

"  You  must  have  been  dull  in  understanding  my  wishes," 
replied  the  lady,  blandly,  "  for  I  believe  the  advertisement 
particularly  stated  that  I  wanted  a  half-grown  girl  to  per- 
form very  slight  labor,  while  you  are  as  tall  as  our  young 
ladies,  and  look  as  if  you  might  perform  good  service." 

"  Oh,  do  take  her,  mamma,"  simpered  a  voice  from  the 
sofa.  "  It  would  be  so  grand  to  have  a  quadroon  waiting- 
maid,  and  she  would  make  a  capital  one,  and  we  could 
call  her  Olio,  or  some  other  fancy  name.  It  would  be  so 
grand.  Do  take  her,  mamma." 

These  words,  and  the  low,  derisive  laugh  which  accom- 
panied them,  fell  with  crushing  weight  upon  the  shrinking, 
sensitive  heart  of  the  beautiful  girl ;  and  raising  her  eyea 
beseechingly  toward  the  speaker,  she  beheld,  to  her  utter 
amazement,  Mr.  Fenn,  with  his  gaze  fixed  wonderingly 
upon  her.  Her  assumed  calmness  gave  way  beneath  his 
glance  ;  clasping  her  delicate  hands  together,  she  staggered 
back,  and  would  have  fallen  to  the  floor,  had  not  a  manly 
arm  been  suddenly  placed  around  her. 

"  Flora,"  he  said,  calmly,  "  what  means  this  ?  A  strange 
infatuation  must  have  taken  possession  of  you.  Come, 
you  are  ill.  I  will  support  you,  and  accompany  you  safely 
to  Mrs.  Lane,  in  whose  presence  you  will  ever  be  saved 
from  insult." 

"No,  no!  I  beg  you  will  not  trouble  yourself;  yet  I 
thank  you." 


AN  UNEXPECTED  MEETING.  153 

The  last  acknowledgment  was  quite  unnecessary,  since 
her  tearful  eyes  had  spoken  it  before  her  lips  could  shape 
the  words. 

He  led  her  to  the  door  without  a  word,  when  she  turned 
her  face  pleadingly  to  his  and  begged  he  would  allow  her 
to  go  alone. 

"  How  can  I  ?  You  are  still  very  pale  and  are  trembling 
violently.  Let  me  call  a  carriage  j  you  are  not  able  to  take 
so  long  a  walk." 

But  she  reassured  him,  and  bounded  lightly  down  the 
steps. 

Mr.  Fenn  had  no  desire  to  return  to  the  room  which  he 
had  left,  and  taking  his  hat,  walked  leisurely  down  the 
street.  Here  and  there  a  lamp  threw  out  its  feeble  rays 
upon  the  darkness,  and  the  thunder's  low  peals  came 
nearer,  while  the  passers-by  greeted  each  familiar  face 
with  a  hurried  word  and  the  astounding  news  that  a 
heavy  shower  was  coming. 

Flora  had  reached  the  first  corner,  and  was  hurriedly 
turning  down  the  street,  when  she  beheld  a  closely  veiled 
figure  approaching  her.  She  slackened  her  pace  involuntar- 
ily, and  walked  leisurely  toward  it.  There  was  something 
familiar  in  the  shadowy  outline  of  the  form ;  and  while  she 
was  endeavoring  to  collect  her  scattered  thoughts,  a  hand 
clasped  her  own,  and  Lura  stood  before  her.  Flora  grasped 
her  hand  tightly  in  both  of  her  own,  while  a  slight  scream 
broke  from  her  lips. 

"  I  have  been  watching  for  you,"  said  Lura,  in  a  low 
voice.  "  I  saw  you  go  into  Mrs.  Goodale's,  yonder,  and 
determined  to  meet  you  when  you  came  out." 

"Oh,  where  do  you  live?  and  what  are  you  doing? 
Can  I  find  you?"  asked  Flora,  in  a  breath.  " I  have  pined 
for  you.  It  was  cruel  to  keep  me  in  ignorance  so  long. 
Tell  me  all." 

"  I  can't  now.  See,  it  is  already  beginning  to  rain.  Do 
you  see  tiiat  little  cot,  just  down  the  street,  yonder? 


154  AN  UNEXPECTED  MEETING. 

There  is  my  home.  Come  to  me  as  soon  as  possible,  for  I 
have  much  to  tell  you.  I  am  not  unhappy,  dear  Flora — • 
quite  the  reverse.  Will  you  come '?" 

"To-morrow." 

"  But  it  rains.    Go  with  me  now." 

"  No,  I  must  hurry ;  kind  friends  will  be  anxious  about 
me." 

Flora  drew  her  shawl  more  tightly  about  her,  and  was  on 
the  point  of  hastening  away,  when  a  carriage  that  had  been 
rattling  rapidly  down  the  street  stopped  directly  before  her, 
and  she  heard  her  name  spoken  by  some  one,  stepping  from 
the  door. 

"Hasten,  Flora,"  said  Mr.  Fenn,  taking  her  hand  to 
assist  her  in,  "  or  you  will  get  very  wet." 

She  obeyed,  and  soon  found  herself  closely  sheltered, 
while  the  big  rain-drops  beat  heavily  upon  all  sides  of  the 
carriage,  as  it  whirled  along  with  rapid  speed.  Mr.  Fenn 
was  beside  her : 

"  Flora,  I  beg  that  you  will  not  consider  me  an  intruder 
if  I  take  the  liberty  of  a  friend,  and  ask  you  to  give  up  the 
plan,  whatever  it  may  be,  the  attempted  performance  of 
which  has  given  you  so  much  pain  this  evening.  You  do 
not  know  so  much  of  the  world  as  I  do,  gentle  girl.  You 
have  friends;  cling  closely  to  them,  for  they  are  more  pre- 
cious than  rubies,  and  should  not,  from  any  slight  cause, 
real  or  imaginary,  be  thrown  away.  Discarded  kindness 
wounds  the  donor  more  than  a  score  of  thrusts  from  the 
keen  point  of  sarcasm  and  contempt." 

Flora  felt  the  power  of  these  words,  breathed  so  gently 
into  her  ear ;  but  before  she  had  time  to  reply,  if,  indeed, 
she  could  have  summoned  words  to  her  aid,  the  carriage 
stopped,  and  Mr.  Fenn  placed  her  safely  under  the  shelter 
of  her  present  hoine,  and  then,  re-entering  the  carriage,  was 
driven  rapidly  away. 

Kitty  rushed  to  meet  her,  exclaiming, 

"  Well,  this  is  as  it  should  be.    If  I  hadn't  seen  the  car- 


JLN  UNEXPECTED  MEETING.  155 

riage  with  my  own  eyes,  my  midnight  dreams  would  have 
been  haunted  with  the  sight  of  witches  sailing  through  the 
air  on  broomsticks,  or  riding  one  of  those  swift  spirited 
pantomimes  that  Ben  Franklin  tried  to  catch  and  tame 
according  to  his  fashion.  Ha,  ha,  ha  I  But  tell  me,  Flora, 
where  under  the  sun  have  you  been  ?  and  what  made  yon 
stay  so  late?  My  pretty  mamma  is  almost  crazy  about 
you — at  least,  I  saw  a  big  tear  swimming  around  in  her 
blue  eye,  as  she  left  the  room,  after  standing  for  half  an 
hour  at  the  window,  looking  out  into  the  storm  for 
you." 

Flora  had  thrown  her  arms  affectionately  around  the 
chattering  girl  and  kissed  the  sweet  young  face,  so  full 
of  innocent  hilarity,  and  they  were  now  rapidly  ascend- 
ing the  winding  stairway  to  Mrs.  Lane's  private  dressing- 
room. 

"I  have  been  taking  a  long  walk,"  answered  Flora, 
evasively;  "and  just  as  the  storm  reached  me,  Mr. 
Fenn  came  along  with  a  carriage,  and  kindly  brought 
me  home." 

"Ah,  yes!  very  kindly.  No  doubt  he  would  say  that 
you  very  kindly  honored  him  with  your  company.  A 
very  curious  thing  this  'kindness'  is.  Like  the  school- 
master's rule,  it  works  both  ways  sometimes;"  and  her 
clear  and  silvery  laugh  rang  through  the  extensive  hall. 

"  Flora !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Lane,  as  the  two  girls  entered 
with  arms  encircling  each  other's  waists ;  "  I  am  so  glad 
you  have  come.  I  have  been  worrying  about  you,  child, 
and  cannot  consent  to  any  more  such  long  walks  alone." 

There  was  a  motherly  tenderness  in  the  tones  of  her 
voice,  and  affection  beamed  from  her  large  eyes,  as  she  re- 
turned the  fond  embrace  bestowed  upon  her  by  the  agitated 
Flora.  Never  before  had  love  appeared  so  precious  to  her 
as  now.  Her  sensitive  soul  was  still  writhing,  pierced 
through  and  through  by  the  keenly  lacerating  darts  thrown 
from  a  cold,  selfish  nature,  more  degrading  to  the  female 


156  AN  UNEXPECTED  MEETING. 

character  in  the  eyes  of  civilization  and  Christianity  than 
the  tattered  garments  of  poverty  or  the  dark  stain  falsely 
and  unjustly  set  by  the  law  upon  an  ancestral  ignominy ; 
and  more  refreshing  than  the  honeyed  dew-drop  to  the 
withered  flower  were  the  words  of  kindness  and  love  to  the 
drooping  spirits  of  the  tempest-tossed  orphan.  Sad,  tad 
heart!  Ah !  more  closely  must  thou  fold  the  wings  of  thy 
angelic  faith  over  those  weary  throbbings,  or  thou  wilt 
faint  and  grow  despondent  ere  thy  Father's  voice  shall 
reach  thee,  over  the  troubled  waters,  with  its  inspiring 
"Peace,  be  still  I" 

It  was  midnight,  and  Flora  had  risen  from  the  bed  tc 
which  refreshing  slumber  refused  to  come,  and  seating  her- 
self by  the  open  window,  was  gazing  out  upon  the  clouded 
sky.  The  storm  was  past,  and  here  and  there  a  tiny  star 
peeped  through  the  darkness  and  looked  tenderly  down 
upon  her.  Ah !  those  silent  friends !  how  she  loved  them ! 
Consolation  and  peace  always  came  to  her  upon  their 
pure,  silvery  beams,  even  in  the  darkest  hour,  and  distrust 
fled  like  a  guilty  coward  before  their  cheering  light 

Flora  sat  and  gazed  thoughtfully  upward.  The  clouds 
were  flying  as  a  retreating  army  before  the  breeze ;  and  as 
she  mused,  the  full  round  moon  slowly  ascended  from  be- 
hind the  eastern  hiDs  and  bathed  the  slumbering  city  in  a 
halo  of  heavenly  peace. 

"Shall  the  storms  of  my  life  ever  thus  beautifully  pass 
away,  and  the  hovering  clouds  ever  vanish,  and  my  path 
be  gilded  with  the  glorious  light  which  comes  up  from  the 
future?" 

Mrs.  Goodale  and  her  two  daughters  were  left  by  Mr. 
Fenn  in  a  state  of  speechless  amazement.  They  looked  at 
each  other  through  the  gathering  darkness  in  mute  sur- 
prise. Mattie,  the  youngest,  was  the  first  to  recover. 

"Well,  Kate,"  she  exclaimed, "  you  have  closed  this  inter 
esting  scene  with  a  most  exciting  finale,  I  can  assure  you 
might  as  well  ground  arms  now,  as  our  captain-unclt 


AN  UNEXPECTED  MEETING.  157 

would  say,  and  give  up  the  contest ;  for  as  sure  as  you  are 
alive,  which  might,  I  own,  be  open  to  doubt,  Mr.  Fenn,  the 
rich  bachelor,  is,  according  to  Tom's  parlance,  a  '  goner ' 
sure,  and  neither  of  us  will  have  any  more  occasion  to 
languish  beneath  his  fascinating  smile.  Heigho!  wonder 
if  it  wouldn't  be  very  becoming  in  me  to  do  some  heroic 
deed — go  and  hang  myself,  for  instance,  and  bring  him 
back,  a  trembling  penitent,  at  your  feet  ?" 
"  Hush,  Matt !  Your  levity  is  too  provoking." 
"Too  provoking,  is  it?  Well,  then,  I'll  live  to  comfort 
you  a  while  longer.  Perhaps  you  don't  know  that  he  said 
all  sorts  of  pretty  things  to  me  while  you  were  torturing 
excruciating  agony  out  of  that  old  dilapidated  piano.  Be- 
sides, while  you  had  that  poor  girl  on  the  rack,  my  sur- 
prised look  was  full  of  sympathy,  which,  of  course,  he 
didn't  fail  to  notice.  Ha,  ha,  sister  Kate!  the  farce  was 
well  played,  and  has  an  end  worthy  of  its  beginning;"  and 
rising  from  her  seat,  she  commenced  chanting  with  a  most 
ludicrous  sang-froid : 

"If  I  had  a  heart  worth  giving, 

I'd  search  for  some  bold  one  to  take  it ; 
If  life  were  a  farce  worth  living, 
I'd  not  on  the  love  of  one  stake  it ;" 

and  with  an  assumed  laugh,  she  glided  from  the  zoom. 

"  He  spoke  of  Mrs.  Lane,"  said  the  mother.  "  I  wonder 
what  she  has  to  do  with  one  who  is  obliged  to  go  around 
answering  advertisements  for  a  servant's  place?" 

"  I  don't  know  anything  about  it,"  replied  the  other,  pet- 
tishly. "I  only  know  that  I  have  committed  an  error 
which  I  would  give  worlds  to  recall,  were  it  in  my  power. 
Lewis  Fenn  is  the  only  person  I  ever  knew  whom  I  could 
love — yes,  more,  I  could  adore  him ;"  and  the  unhappy  girl 
burst  into  tears. 

A  servant  entered,  bringing  lights,  and  Mrs.  Goodale, 
u 


158  AN   UNEXPECTED  MEETING. 

anxious  to  alleviate  her  daughter's  sufferings  by  inculpat- 
ing another,  said, 

"  Tom,  why  did  you  show  that  girl  into  the  drawing- 
room  when  company  was  present?  It  really  seems  to 
me  you  never  will  learn  to  perform  your  duties  as  you 
should." 

"  Why,  ma'am,"  said  the  servant,  with  a  perplexed  air, 
"  I  can't  see  no  difference.  She  looked  a  lady,  spoke  like 
a  lady,  and  her  dress — sure,  that  looked  like  a  lady's. 
How  was  I  to  know,  sure,  that  she  was  no  lady  at 
ail?" 

"  If  you  had  any  discernment,  you  might  know  by  the 
manner,  the  way  they  move,"  said  the  lady,  with  great 
hesitation. 

"  Faith,  and  if  that  was  all,  the  howly  Virgin  herself 
couldn't  have  moved  more  like  a  spirit  or  looked  more 
sweet,  sure." 

An  impatient  gesture  dismissed  the  luckless  Tom  from 
the  room,  and  the  mother  and  daughter  brooded  over  the 
downfall  of  their  ambitious  castles. 

Little  did  the  object  of  all  these  hopes  perceive  the  skillfully 
constructed  net  which  cunning  tact  had  been  ingeniously 
weaving  about  him.  Truly  noble  in  himself,  and  an 
ardent  admirer  of  woman  as  represented  in  her  true  cha- 
racter of  gentle  loveliness,  he  sought  to  place  himself  often 
beneath  those  permeating  influences  that  were  so  well  cal- 
culated to  soothe  and  soften  his  sterner  nature,  and  to 
bring  forth  those  hidden  beauties  which  would  adorn  his 
towering  manhood,  as  the  fair  hand  of  creation  throws  over 
the  rugged  escarpments  her  rarest  and  sweetest  flowers. 
But  if,  at  any  time,  his  penetrating  glance  detected  beneath 
a  captivating  exterior  the  canker-worm  of  selfishness  lying 
coiled  and  devouring  what  else  would  have  been  captivat- 
ing sweets,  he  hurried  away  from  the  repulsive  spectacle 
with  loathing  and  disgust.  For  this  reason  did  he  abruptly 
leave  the  house  where  he  had  spent  so  many  pleasant 


AN  UNEXPECTED  MEETING.  159 

hours,  and  turn  with  renewed  admiration  to  the  truthful 
and  gentle  Flora. 

"  Yet,  after  all,"  he  soliloquized,  upon  returning  to  the 
carriage,  "  I  may  be  whirling  through  a  masquerade,  and 
this  apparently  artless  girl  may  be  hooded  and  cloaked  for 
the  occasion.  Yet  I  do  not  believe  it.  It  is  a  morbid 
heart  that  feeds  upon  distrust." 

Flora  did  not  waver  in  her  resolution.  Amid  the  throng 
of  trials  which  daily  seemed  to  be  so  closely  hemming  her 
in,  the  greatest  of  all  was  the  sacrifice  of  that  love  which 
had  been  so  precious  to  her.  Mrs.  Lane  and  Kitty  would 
never  consent  to  her  plans,  and  how  could  she  be  happy 
without  their  love?  Then  came  the  words,  whispered  so 
kindly  in  her  ear,  "  More  precious  than  rubies  is  the  affec- 
tion of  true  friends.  Throw  it  not  hastily  away." 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 
LUBA'S  NEW  HOME. 

pale  moon  had  not  yet  finished  her  quiet  march 
-L  over  the  hroad  azure  vault  when  the  day-king  arose 
majestically  from  his  Orient  bed,  and  with  his  dazzling 
brilliance  extinguished  her  gentle  light,  awakening  silent 
sleepers  with  his  scintillating  beams,  and  throwing  over  a 
reanimated  world  a  flood  of  golden  light. 

Yet  Flora  slumbered  on,  weary  and  exhausted  by  the 
events  of  the  preceding  evening;  it  was  not  until  a  late 
hour  that  tired  Nature's  sweet  restorer  had  come  to  soothe 
her  agitation  and  lull  her  to  rest.  A  loving  kiss  upon  her 
lips,  accompanied  by  a  gushing  laugh,  awoke  her,  and 
Kitty  Lane  stood  over  her,  her  eyes  sparkling  with  anima- 
tion and  her  whole  face  beaming  with  suppressed  mirth. 

"  Tell  me  what  you  were  dreaming  about,"  she  exclaimed, 
as  Flora  opened  her  eyes.  "  You  don't  know  how  queerly 
you  acted.  One  moment  your  cheeks  would  glow  with 
excitement  and  your  lips  move  as  if  about  to  speak,  then 
the  deep  blush  would  roll  away  and  paleness  come  over 
your  face.  What  was  it,  Flora?  Oh,  I  want  to  hear  so 
much,  for  I  watched  you  with  more  interest  than  I  ever 
experienced  in  reading  a  novel." 

Flora  had  remained  silent,  endeavoring  to  recall  her 
receding  thoughts,  that  had  so  suddenly  been  put  to  flight 
by  Kitty's  morning  kiss. 

"  I  really  would  be  happy  to  gratify  you,"  she  said,  at 
length,  "  but  you  have  frightened  away  my  pleasant  visitors 
from  dreamland,  as  you  would  scatter  a  flock  of  singing 
birds." 

ito 


LURA'S  NEW  'HOME.  161 

"  Ah !  you  needn't  tell  me  that ;"  and  she  snatched  the 
slipper  which  Flora  was  about  placing  upon  her  foot. 
"  You  sha'n't  have  this  or  anything  else  until  you  tell  me. 
Do  you  think  I  wish  all  my  lessons  spoiled  to-day  by  such 
a  disappointment  ?  No,  no,  Miss  Dignity  1  Besides,  if  you 
do  not  tell  me,  and  Professor  de  Fontafoe  scolds  me  about 
that  provoking  French,  I'll  tell  him  I  forgot  it  because  you 
would  not  satisfy  me  concerning  an  avowal  you  had  in 
your  dreams." 

"Why,  Kitty!" 

"  I  will,  positively.  Then  won't  his  black  eyes  twinkle 
at  you?" 

Flora  joined  in  the  laugh,  as  she  said, 

"  I  am  quite  safe,  Miss  Kitty,  for  you  would  never  dare 
attempt  so  much  French  in  one  speech,  and  you  know 
English  conversation  is  forbidden  all  the  week." 

"  Provoking !"  exclaimed  Kitty,  with  pouting  lips. 

"I  really  pity  you,"  said  Flora,  as  she  continued  her 
toilet.  "I  wish  I  could  remember  the  dream  which  has 
excited  you  so  much;  I  would  give  you  a  perfect  revise 
of  it." 

"  There  is  that  same  blush  again ;"  and  she  pointed  her 
finger  at  her.  "  I  shall  just  tell  my  pretty  mamma ;"  and 
she  skipped  out  of  the  room. 

Yes,  Flora  had  been  dreaming;  and  when  her  lively 
friend  left  her,  the  smile  passed  from  her  lips,  and  a  pen- 
sive shadow  rested  upon  her  face. 

"Yes,  I  wish  I  could  remember  all,  for  my  own  sake; 
yet  his  face  was  there,  and  looked  so  troubled.  Those  calm, 
clue  eyes,  with  their  expressive  look,  and — and — yes,  he 
spoke  to  me.  Ah !  I  do  remember  he  asked  me  for  that 
precious  keepsake  he  gave  me  at  parting.  Oh,  he  is  cruel — 
cruel !"  and  the  poor  girl  would  have  given  away  to  her 
emotions  had  not  Kitty  at  this  moment  re-entered  with  a 
joyous  bound  and  a  loud  exclamation  of  pleasure  and 
surprise. 

14* 


162  LURA'S  NEW  HOME. 

"  Oh,  Flora,"  and  she  clapped  her  hands,  "  take  off  that 
Quaker  wrapper  and  put  on  your  pretty  blue  one,  for 
Cousin  Hal  is  down  stairs,  and  I  want  you  to  look  your 
loveliest.  It  is  so  provoking  1  He  came  up  in  the  night- 
l»at  and  stayed  at  the  hotel  until  morning,  and  now  1 
must  run  off  to  school  and  leave  him.  Come,  hurry !" 
and  she  pulled  Flora  from  her  chair.  "I  wish  you  to 
;lo  my  bidding;  you  look  so  sweetly  in  that  pretty  blue 
chintz." 

"You  humming-bird!  cease  your  buzzing  one  moment, 
and  let  me  ask  you,  'What's  Hecuba  to  me,  or  I  to 
Hecuba?'" 

"  Come,  there's  the  breakfast-bell ;  and  if  he  don't  like  you, 
I'll  never  forgive  you,  so  come !"  and  with  many  lively  re- 
partees, they  descended  to  the  breakfast-room. 

Flora  started  as  she  heard  her  own  name  mentioned  in 
connection  with  "  Harry  Walton,  our  nephew ;"  and  look- 
ing up,  she  beheld  a  pair  of  dark,  luminous  eyes  fixed  with 
an  inquiring  look  upon  her. 

"  I  think  we  have  met  before,"  he  said,  with  the  most 
musical,  manly  voice  in  the  world,  as  she  returned  hia 
courteous  bow.  "Yes,  I  am  not  mistaken:  you  must  be 
that  charming  naiad  of  the  woods  I  saw  some  months  ago 
up  by  the  Falls,  and  Orpheus  himself  could  not  have  made 
sweeter  music." 

Flora  blushed  deeply  at  these  abrupt  compliments,  and 
knew  not  what  to  say.  Mrs.  Lane,  noticing  her  embarrass- 
ment, said,  quickly, 

"Ah!  you  have  met  Miss  Hawes  before?  I  was  not 
aware — " 

"Yes,"  interrupted  the  young  man,  "but  there  was  a 
great  gulf  between  us." 

"Just  as  there  always  will  be  between  you  and  every 
pretty  lady,"  chimed  in  Kitty. 

"•  Didn't  you  tell  me  this  very  morning  that  you  loved 


LURA'S  NEW  HOME.  163 

me  better  than  anybody  else,  you  insinuating  girl?"  in- 
quired the  young  man  playfully. 

"  I  was  always  accused  of  having  a  strange  fancy,"  re- 
torted Kitty.  "There  is  Jim,  for  instance,  who  is  lean, 
lank  and  leathery,  and  don't  know  but  one  word  perfectly ; 
yet  I  have  an  astonishing  amount  of  affection  for  the  poor 
fellow." 

They  all  joined  in  a  merry  laugh  around  the  table, 
while  Harry  Walton  declared  "  he  would  find  a  fac-simtte 
of  leathery  Jim,  and  love  her  to  distraction,  just  out  of 
spite." 

Kitty  pouted,  and  Flora,  happy  in  the  merry  sunshine 
which  ever  niaketh  glad  the  heart,  finished  her  breakfast 
without  speaking,  and  asking,  with  a  blush,  to  be  excused, 
left  the  room. 

"  By  Jove !"  exclaimed  Harry ;  "  she's  the  most  beautiful 
creature  I  ever  beheld.  Who  is  she  ?  and  from  whence  did 
she  come  ?" 

"  A  young  lady  who  is  attending  Mrs.  Willard's  school," 
answered  Mrs.  Lane — "  an  orphan,  I  believe ;  and  poor  Kitty 
is  in  desperate  love  with  her.  I  intend  she  shall  stay  with 
us,  for  we  shall  all  be  lonely  without  her." 

"  Oh  yes,"  said  Kitty ;  "  I  should  die  without  her,  she  is 
BO  good,  so  gentle,  so  changeable,  so — everything,  fickle  as 
an  April  day,  yet  always  pleasing.  The  whole  school  loves 
her,  yet  it  is  amusing  to  see  some  of  them  curl  their  lips 
and  whisper  bitter  words  to  each  other  about  her,  as  she 
sails  by  in  her  dignity,  declaring  they  wouldn't  speak  to 
or  look  at  her,  the  proud  plebeian;  and  when  she  con- 
descends to  give  them  a  word,  or  to  speak  to  or  look  at 
them,  to  see  them  anxious  to  wipe  the  dust  from  her 
ehoes." 

"Then  she  is  proud,  is  she,  Kitty?"  asked  the  young 
man. 

"She  is  a  paradox,"  answered  Mrs.  Lane,  "which  at 
times  I  am  puzzled  to  understand." 


164  LURA'S  NEW  HOME. 

"  It's  well  I'm  going  off  again  in  the  night-boat,  or  I  fear 
I  should  be  obliged  to  go  back  to  New  York  heartless  if 
not  hatless." 

It  was  Wednesday ;  and  Kitty,  after  mature  deliberation, 
came  to  the  honest  conclusion  that  it  was  without  doubt 
her  duty  to  spend  the  day  with  Cousin  Hal,  instead  of 
going  to  school,  as  there  was  but  one  session,  and  Flora 
received  a  good-bye  kiss,  and  walked  away  alone. 

'  Kitty,  let  me  rob  that  dewdrop  from  your  lip,"  said 
her  cousin,  as  she  returned  to  the  parlor,  looking  grieved, 
and  turned  to  the  window.  "  Ah,  my  fair  cousin !  you  are 
angry  with  my  jesting,"  he  said,  approaching  and  placing 
his  arm  about  her.  "  Forgive  me,  pretty  cousin,"  he  con- 
tinued, stooping  to  kiss  the  sweet  lips  that  pouted  so  be- 
witchingly,  as  she  looked  up  into  his  fine  face ;  "  you  know 
I  never  can  love  any  one  else  half  as  well  as  I  do  you." 

"  Oh,  Hal,"  she  exclaimed,  passionately,  returning  his 
caress,  "  you  grow  more  and  more  splendid  every  day  you 
live ;  but  I  don't — I  know  I  don't.  Mr.  Fenn  calls  Flora 
the  beautiful,  stately  rose,  and  poor  me  the  pretty  forget- 
me-not.  I  know  what  it  means :  the  rose  overshadows  and 
completely  hides  the  tiny  flower." 

"  More  precious  to  me,  dear  Kitty,  is  the  little  unpretend- 
ing violet,  that  always  looks  up  to  me  in  loving  confidence, 
than  a  dozen  stately  roses  that  are  obliged  to  bend  their 
heads  to  look  down  upon  me.  You  are  my  precious 
violet,  Kitty,  and  no  statelier  flower  can  ever  hide  you 
from  my  love." 

Kitty  looked  very  happy  and  satisfied,  but  blushed 
deeply,  as  Mrs.  Lane's  step  was  heard  close  beside  them. 
She  gave  the  young  couple  a  reproachful  look,  as  she 
•aid* 

"  Harry,  did  I  not  tell  you—" 

"  Oh  yes,  my  dear  aunty,"  interrupted  the  young  man ; 
"you  told  me  a  great  many  things,  and  I  am  your  most 
obedient  servant,  madam.  I  was  just  looking  at  Kitty  to 


LUBA'S  NEW  HOME.  165 

Bee  her  pout  because  I  thought  Miss  Flora  more  beautiful 
than  herself,  that's  all."  But  the  m^rry  twinkle  in  his 
dark,  flashing  eyes  disclosed  all  to  the  careful  mother, 
and  she  secretly  determined  to  leave  them  alone  no  more 
that  day. 

Harry  Walton,  as  Kitty  declared,  was  the  most  beautiful, 
the  noblest  and  the  best  young  man  that  ever  lived ;  and  tliorv 
who  best  knew  him  never  disputed  the  truth  of  the  blush- 
ing girl's  assertion.  But  there  was  one  stain  upon  his  fair 
escutcheon  which  could  not  easily  be  washed  away :  he  was 
poor.  Mr.  Lane's  sister,  when  dying,  gave  him  her  darling 
babe,  which  was  so  soon  to  become  an  orphan.  The  brother 
had  most  generously  provided  for  and  cherished  his  sister's 
parting  gift,  and  the  young  man  was  now  in  a  good  situa- 
tion as  clerk  in  one  of  the  extensive  publishing  houses  ta 
be  found  in  the  great  city  of  New  York.  His  uncle's  agree- 
ment  was  therefore  fulfilled,  and  now  he  himself  must  ac- 
complish the  rest — struggle  upward,  as  his  ancestors  had 
done  before  him.  He  loved  the  beautiful  Kitty,  who  had 
clung  to  him  in  her  innocent  childhood ;  and  although  he 
had  often  been  warned  of  his  folly,  he  had  not  yet,  as  we 
have  seen,  overcome  his  boyish  passion  and  arrived  at  the 
estate  of  man's  "common  sense." 

At  school,  Flora  missed  the  cheerful  smile  and  gleeful 
words  of  her  companion,  and  often  during  the  day,  while 
intently  engaged  in  her  various  duties,  a  dark,  spectral 
thought  would  suddenly  arise  in  her  mind  and  send  the 
blood  rushing  through  her  palpitating  heart.  That  after- 
noon she  was  to  enjoy  a  nice  long  talk  with  Lura ;  yet  in 
Bpite  of  this  pleasing  prospect,  a  gloomy  apprehension  pos- 
sessed her  mind.  She  tripped  lightly  home  from  school, 
however,  for  the  great  joy  that  came  bubbling  up  in  her 
heart  had  chased  away  the  sombre  shadows,  and  she 
looked  forward  to  her  visit  with  Lura  with  unbounded 
delight.  After  a  hasty  dinner  by  herself,  she  arranged  her 
toilet  for  her  walk.  She  then  descended  to  the  drawing* 


166  LURA'S  NEW  HOME. 

room,  where  she  expected  to  find  some  of  the  family,  but 
no  one  was  there.  Learning  that  they  had  all  gone  out  in 
the  carriage  immediately  after  dinner,  she  left  word  with 
the  rosy-cheeked  chambermaid  that  she  had  gone  out  to 
visit  a  friend,  and  would  not  return  before  tea,  and  rapidly 
proceeded  on  her  walk. 

Pleasing  expectancy  lends  swift  wings,  and  in  a  short 
time  she  was  knocking  at  the  door  of  Lura's  new  home. 
It  was  indeed  a  humble  cot  in  which  she  had  taken  refuge, 
but  the  words,  "  I  am  not  unhappy — quite  the  reverse," 
seemed  to  be  whispered  to  her  again  by  the  lilac  bush  be- 
side her  that  struggled  alone  for  life  in  the  narrow  spot,  six 
feet  square,  of  good  rich  earth.  Flora  had  just  time  to  per- 
ceive that  the  house  was  old  and  fast  becoming  dilapidated 
by  Time's  remorseless  fingers,  and  that  here  and  there  a 
narrow  strip  of  dingy  white  paint  remained  as  a  connect- 
ing link  between  its  present  decay  and  its  former  tidiness, 
when  the  door  opened  and  an  old  lady,  plainly  dressed 
and  stooping  from  the  weight  of  many  years,  stood  before 
her. 

Her  face  was  very  thin  and  pale,  and  her  brow  deeply 
corrugated ;  but  when  Flora  asked  for  her  friend  Lura,  a 
pleasant  smile  illumined  her  aged  face  with  a  glow  really 
pleasurable  to  look  upon.  At  the  same  moment  Lura 
sprang  through  a  door  on  the  left  of  the  narrow  entry, 
and  the  two  girlg  were  clasped  in  each  other's  arms. 

"  I  came  as  soon  as  I  heard  your  voice,"  said  Lura,  kiss- 
ing her,  "  but  I  am  rather  particular  who  sees  my  ugly  face 
just  now." 

"I  think  you  have  grown  very  pretty,"  said  Flora,  ae 
they  entered  the  little  room  from  which  Lura  had  just 
emerged.  This  was  the  parlor,  or,  as  Mrs.  Clark,  its  aged 
owner,  termed  it,  the  "keeping-room,"  which  certainly 
seemed  the  more  appropriate  name.  A  plain  rag  carpet, 
remarkable  only  for  its  durability,  covered  the  floor,  six 
glossy  wooden  chairs  stood  there  which  had  for  many 


LUBA'S  NEW  HOME.  167 

years  preserved  a  respectable,  dignified  silence  in  close 
proximity  with  each  other  and  the  wall,  and  a  small, 
prudish  table  near  by  boastfully  exposed  its  unspotted 
surface,  presenting  to  view  only  the  religious  precepts  of 
Baxter  and  the  glowing  beauties  of  Young's  "Night 
Thoughts,"  mingling  with  the  songs  of  Moore  and  the 
Scottish  lays  of  Burns.  In  the  centre  of  the  room  was 
a  very  demure-looking  rocking-chair,  Jo  which  Lura 
escorted  her  visitor.  The  blinds  were  thrown  open,  but 
the  snow-white  curtains,  ironed  to  an  oppressive  smooth- 
ness, were  allowed  to  hang  down  over  the  small  narrow 
windows  in  the  usual  style,  with  the  intent,  as  Lura 
asserted,  of  keeping  out  the  gaze  of  the  intruding  sun. 

"  Is  it  possible,"  asked  Flora,  "  that  your  friends  have  not 
yet  discovered  your  retreat  ?" 

"  I  reckon  not ;  I  doubt  whether  they  would  ever  think 
of  old  Mrs.  Clark,  for  it  is  many  years  since  she  worked  for 
us,  and  after  age  and  infirmity  had  enfeebled  her  all  con- 
nection was  broken  off  between  her  and  our  family,  except 
with  myself.  I  never  forgot  her  kind,  maternal  words  that 
used  to  sink  so  soothingly  into  my  young  heart,  and  I 
often  came  here  unmolested,  since  none  troubled  them- 
selves about  my  acts  or  associates  after  my  labor  was 
done.  I  believe  I  never  troubled  them  with  the  name  of 
my  particular  friend."  The  old  bitterness  arose  for  a  mo- 
ment to  the  speaker's  face ;  but  driving  it  away,  she  said, 
gayly,  "  Now,  excuse  me  just  a  moment ;  I  must  get  my 
work.  No  leisure  moments  for  me  now;  I  have  become  a 
model  of  a  happy  busy-bee ;"  and  with  a  light  step  and  a 
happy  smile,  she  left  the  room. 

"What  are  you  doing?"  asked  Flora,  as  she  returned 
with  her  hands  full  of  white  muslin. 

"  Making  external  coverings  for  internal  sustenance,"  she 
replied,  laughing.  "You  see,"  she  continued,  holding  up 
for  her  visitor's  inspection  part  of  the  work  which  she  had 
brought  with  her,  "  there  are  a  good  many  stitches  in  that 


168  LURA'S  NEW  HOME. 

half  of  the  shirt.  I  have  to  make  two  of  them  for  my 
weekly  allowance  of  bread  and  butter." 

"It's  too  bad,"  said  Flora,  "and  I  eat  the  bread  of 
idleness." 

"  There's  nothing  bad  about  this,  and  I  rather  enjoy  it,'' 
said  Lura,  forcing  a  smile.  "  Perhaps  you  would  like  to 
hear  my  daily  programme  of  exercises  ?" 

"  Oh  yes ;  I  want  to  hear  everything  about  you." 

"  Well,  then,  I  rise  at  five  in  the  morning.  See  what  the 
morning  dew  does  to  my  roses;"  and  she  laughed  and 
placed  her  hands  upon  her  cheeks. 

"  Or  rather  the  gentle  sunshine,"  interrupted  Flora. 

"  Just  as  you  like.  But  as  I  was  saying,  I  rise  at  five, 
prepare  our  plain  morning  meal  of  coffee  and  hot  rolls,  fly 
over  the  house  for  half  an  hour  with  broom  and  brush,  then 
rest  myself  by  the  little  back  window  of  my  sleeping-room, 
and  stitch,  stitch,  with  an  open  book  before  me,  into  which 
my  eyes  often  wander,  taking  into  my  mind  a  paragraph 
or  sentence,  then  work  on  industriously  while  it  is  storing 
itself  away  in  one  of  memory's  secret  cells  until  the  brain 
is  weary ;  then,  as  it  is  nearly  noon,  I  come  down  to  the 
kitchen,  get  everything  ready  for  dinner,  which  good  Mrs. 
Clark  always  finishes,  then  back  to  my  needle  and  book. 
Dinner  over,  the  succeeding  hours  are  but  a  repetition  of 
the  morning's  labors  until  tea-time.  Then  my  work  is  laid 
aside,  and  after  a  hasty  walk  to  make  the  few  necessary 
purchases  for  the  table,  or  to  carry  home  my  work,  or  to 
attend  to  any  matter  of  business  requiring  it,  I  take  my 
lamp  and  retire  to  my  little  room  above  for  a  feast  of  fat 
things." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?"  asked  Flora,  in  surprise. 

"  I  mean  that  I  go  deliberately  at  work  to  manufacture 
all  sorts  of  pleasant  things,  and  that  I  feast  upon  them  at 
my  leisure." 

Flora  still  looked  puzzled. 

"  Or,  in  other  words,  I  am  a  wild  reveler  in  the  fields  of 


LURA'8  NEW  HOME.  169 

imagination.  Perhaps  you  have  forgotten  that  I  had  an 
attendant  Muse  when  we  were  all  alone  in  the  fair  '  Utopia ' 
of  other  days  ?" 

"Oh  no;  I  remember  it  perfectly  well.  Your  poem, 
*  The  Neglected  Rose,'  was  so  beautiful." 

"  I  expect  that  will  appear  in  the  next  issue  of  Harper," 
said  Lura,  with  some  slight  hesitation. 

A  thought  suddenly  shot  into  Flora's  mind : 

"  Were  you  the  new  contributor  in  last  month's  number? 
— *  Echoes  of  Night,  by  a  Listener '  ?" 

"  Even  so,  dear  Flora.  But  I  heard  no  strange  things, 
did  I?" 

"How  stupid  I  was!  I  might  have  known  it,"  said 
Flora,  with  much  fervor.  "It  was  very  beautiful,  and 
some  parts  seemed  so  familiar." 

"  Flora,  you'll  not  betray  me?"  she  asked.  "  I  choose  to 
peep  at  the  world  for  a  while  through  a  keyhole;  you 
understand  ?" 

"Certainly;  I  will  not." 

She  did  not  appear  to  notice  Flora's  reply,  and  con- 
tinued : 

"  In  less  than  two  months  I  shall  have  a  work  ready  for 
publication  that  will  either  raise  or  sink  me,  and  I  must 
patiently  await  the  issue.  My  old  friend,  Mrs.  Clark,  has  a 
brother  who  is  often  here,  a  fine,  intellectual  old  gentleman, 
who  has  taken  quite  a  practical  interest  in  my  ambition, 
and  it  is  through  him  that  I  have  been  presented  so  soon 
to  the  world.  He  lives  in  New  York,  and  comes  up  here 
with  a  sloop  which  he  owns.  He  has  encouraged  me  tc 
think  that  I  shall  succeed." 

" I  am  sure  you  will,"  said  Flora,  "and  I  shall  feel  very 
restless  until  it  is  decided." 

"I  am  not  so  sanguine.  The  public  mind  nowadays 
seems  to  be  satisfied  with  nothing  but  the  most  tragical 
scenes,  unreal  in  themselves  and  unsatisfying  in  their  tend- 
encies, and  my  peculiar  weakness  is  a  love  for  the  beauti- 
1* 


170  LURA'S  NEW  HOME. 

ful,  the  great,  the  noble,  as  found  by  a  little  fanciful  sifting 
in  every-day  life.  This  I  expect  will  prove  insipid  to  the 
highly-seasoned  taste,  and  my  poor  '  Thorny  Way '  will  be 
thrown  aside  with  a  '  Bah !'  because  there  are  not  death  and 
murders  lurking  all  along  the  path." 

Thus  the  two  girls  chatted  on,  happy  in  the  present  and 
in  the  fanciful  future  which  imagination  spread  out  before 
them,  when,  to  Flora's  great  surprise,  tea  was  announced 
by  Mrs.  Clark. 

"  I  must  go,"  she  exclaimed,  suddenly,  rising ;  "  I  did  not 
think  it  was  so  late !" 

"  Oh.  I  hurried  up  my  biscuits,"  said  the  kind  old  lady, 
"  so  that  you  could  have  plenty  of  time  to  get  back  before 
dark.  Come,  the  tea  is  getting  cold ;"  and  leading  the  way, 
Flora  followed,  though  much  against  her  will. 

"They  will  expect  me  back,  and  I  fear  Mrs.  Lane  will 
not  like  it,"  she  said,  as  she  took  a  seat  at  the  little  round 
table,  with  its  snowy  white  cloth  and  dark  blue  dishes. 

"Oh,  fie!"  said  Lura,  laughing.  "You  are  more  mine 
than  hers ;  and  if  need  be,  we  will  have  a  controversy  in 
regard  to  it.  Now,  tell  me  truly,  Flora,  isn't  there  some- 
thing more  comfortable,  more  soul-satisfying,  in  these 
nicely-browned  biscuits,  that  square  piece  of  unstamped 
butter  and  that  abundant  supply  of  sweetmeats  in  a 
common  china  dish  than  you  would  find  at  Mrs.  Lane's 
sumptuous  board?" 

Flora  laughed,  but  without  answering  her  question,  re- 
marked, 

"You  have  slighted  that  tempting  loaf  of  cake,  which 
looks  nice  enough  to  grace  any  repast." 

"  Ah !  that  was  because  I  made  it.  It  isn't  modest,  you 
know,  to  praise  one's  own  work." 

"  I  didn't  answer  your  question,  and  it  seems  quite  un- 
necessary to  do  so,  for  I  believe  I  am  only  an  echo  of  your 
theories,  Lura.  But  there  is  one  thing  about  it:  I  enjoy 
this  visit  throughout  heartily.  I  only  wish  it  was  to  last." 


LUBA'S  NEW  HOME.  171 

"  There,  now !  you  have  said  it,"  cried  Lura,  clapping  her 
hands  and  laughing  immoderately.  "  I  have  been  fishing 
for  that  little  sentence  all  this  afternoon." 

"  You  astonish  me,  Lura." 

"  No,  no.  Haven't  Mrs.  Clark  and  myself  been  contriving 
all  the  morning  how  we  could  make  you  happy,  and  every- 
thing comfortable  about  you? — that  is,  if  you  would  ask 
to  come,  which  you  seemed  determined  not  to  do." 

Flora  grew  very  sad. 

"  No,"  she  said,  "  I  must  get  some  place  where  I  too  can 
earn  my  bread  by  the  sweat  of  my  brow.  I  cannot  throw 
away  the  brilliant  example  of  which  I  have  been  a  witness 
this  afternoon." 

She  spoke  with  assumed  playfulness,  but  the  spirit  of 
gloom  which  lurked  beneath  the  words  did  not  escape  the 
notice  of  her  companion. 

Lura  looked  at  her  aged  friend  for  one  moment,  and  then 
said,  pleasantly, 

"  That's  just  what  we  wanted.  You  see,  Flora,  I  am  very 
busy  just  now,  and  cannot  afford  to  spend  so  much  time 
about  the  house.  Now,  if  you  would  only  come  and  relieve 
me  of  these  duties,  I  could  spread  my  wings  and  soar — yes, 
Boar,  my  dear  Flora.  I  seem  in  a  cage  without  you.  Will 
you  come?" 

Flora  was  silent  for  a  moment,  but  the  sadness  passed 
from  her  countenance,  and  Lura  knew  that  she  had  not 
played  the  part  in  vain. 

"  I'll  see  about  it,"  she  replied,  at  last.  "  I  should  enjoy 
it  so  much,  but — " 

"But  what?  I  know  very  well  what  it  implies.  Yon 
think  our  little  work  will  not  yield  sufficient  pay  ?  Is  that 
it?" 

"  Perhaps  so,"  answered  Flora,  smiling. 

"  Well,  then,  let  me  tell  you  there  is  as  much  to  be  dono 
M  you  will  find  a  disposition  to  do.  Never  fear.  Your 


172  LURA'S  NEW  HOME. 

delicate  litlle  fingers  may  find  their  way  into  the  wash-tub 
Wednesday  afternoons.  What  do  you  think  of  that?" 

"  I  think  it  a  very  nice  arrangement,  and  I  will  come." 

Lura  again  clapped  her  hands  triumphantly,  while  Mrs. 
Clark,  a  tear  dimming  her  eyes,  said, 

"  You  make  me  think  of  other  days,  my  children ;  but  I 
am  sure  I  shall  enjoy  it  very  much.  Your  merry  voices  and 
ringing  laughter  will  make  my  old  heart  young  again." 

Flora  clasped  the  wrinkled  hand  tenderly,  and  with  re- 
iterated promises  of  a  speedy  return  and  a  hasty  removal, 
ehe  left  thf  house  and  hurried  back  to  the  elegant  home  of 
her  friend,  Kitty  Lane. 

"  Yet  oh  "  she  murmured  to  herself,  "  how  very  kind  they 
are !  God  will  bless  them,  for  I  never  can  repay  them  for 
one  half  fr  e  Fvmoathy  they  have  bestowed  upon  poor  un- 
happy n&>  ' 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 
THE  PURPOSE  FULFILLED. 

AS  Flora  entered,  Kitty  came  to  meet  her,  with  many 
imprecations  and  threats  of  summary  justice  should 
ehe  ever  dare  again  to  go  away  when  they  wanted  her  so 
much  to  accompany  them  in  one  of  the  loveliest  rides  out 
in  the  country. 

"But  you  are  sufficiently  punished,  Miss  Truant;  just 
come  into  the  parlor  and  witness  your  reward;"  and  with- 
out waiting  for  a  reply,  the  chatty  girl  seized  her  arm  and 
drew  her  into  the  room. 

It  was  a  glowing  picture  which  met  Flora's  gaze,  as  she 
entered — the  rich  velvet  carpet,  which  yielded  to  her  gentle 
tread,  the  luxurious  sofas  and  divans,  which  offered  repose, 
on  every  side,  chairs  that  wooed  to  their  soft  embrace, 
while  beauty  and  magnificence  filled  the  entire  apartment. 
All  was  in  startling  contrast  with  Mrs.  Clark's  quiet  little 
parlor,  and  its  six  straight-backed  wooden  chairs,  that 
offered  neither  comfort  nor  repose,  and  for  a  moment 
Flora's  future  home  rose  up  before  her  with  anything 
but  an  inviting  aspect.  It  was  but  for  a  moment,  how- 
ever, for  by  the  marble  centre-table  whither  Kitty  was 
leading  her  she  perceived  Mr.  Fenn,  standing  with  ex- 
tended hand  to  greet  her.  On  the  opposite  side,  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Lane  reclined  upon  a  sofa,  listening  with  evi- 
dent interest  to  the  clear,  manly  voice  of  Harry  Walton, 
who  was  undoubtedly  making  a  very  fine  speech,  if  the 
marked  attention  of  his  auditors  was  any  criterion  by 
which  to  judge,  while  his  own  manner  expressed  the 
16  •  in 


174  THE  PURPOSE  FULFILLED. 

utmost  indifference,  his  feet  being  elevated  upon  the  win- 
dow-sill and  his  head  resting  calmly  upon  the  back  of  hia 
chair. 

"  I  have  been  waiting  for  you,"  said  Mr.  Fenn,  as  Flora 
took  his  proffered  hand.  "  But  you  are  looking  very  weary. 
J*et  me  conduct  you  to  a  seat." 

"  No,  you  don't,"  said  Kitty,  laughing,  and  at  the  same 
time  holding  up  before  her  companion's  bewildered  gaze  a 
beautiful  bouquet  of  the  choicest  and  rarest  flowers.  "  Now, 
look;  feast  your  greedy  eyes  on  unapproachable  sweets. 
Isn't  it  superb?  Can  any  royal  queen  boast  of  richer 
gems?" 

Flora  had  grasped  the  fragrant  flowers  in  her  hand ;  and 
yielding  to  the  sudden  impulse  of  her  heart,  she  piessed 
them  fervently  to  her  lips,  murmuring,  in  an  almost  in- 
audible voice, 

"  God's  precious  gifts !  How  very,  very  kind  He  is,  to 
bestow  upon  us  such  evident  tokens  of  His  fatherly 
love!" 

"  See,  see !"  shouted  Kitty,  clapping  her  hands,  as  she 
turned  to  the  group  by  the  window  ;  "  Flora  is  enchanted 
over  my  flowers,  and  I  fear  purposes  eating  them." 

"  No,  no,  fair  cousin,"  said  the  young  man,  suddenly, 
lowering  his  feet  and  elevating  his  head  at  the  same  time ; 
"  don't  permit  it.  Remember  that  I  paid  nearly  all  of  my 
spending- money  for  those  fading  beauties,  and  received  a 
scolding  as  recompense  for  my  great  sacrifice." 

Flora  smiled  and  handed  the  flowery  treasure  to  its 
rightful  owner,  at  the  same  time  assuring  the  giver  that 
there  was  not  enough  of  the  cannibal  in  her  nature  or  in- 
clination to  induce  her  to  sacrifice  such  rare  gifts  to  a 
vulgar  appetite. 

"  Cannibal  ?  You  don't  really  believe  that  they  possess 
human  properties?" 

"  Very  nearly,  if  not  quite,"  she  replied,  with  downcast 
eyes ;  for  she  became  strangely  conscious  that  Mr.  Fenn 


THE  PURPOSE  FULFILLED.  175 

was  looking  fixedly  at  her.  "  Yet  they  always  seem  to  me 
like  angel  visitors,  whispering  sweet  tidings  of  that  purer 
land  where  their  bloom  is  fadeless,"  she  said,  in  a  low 
voice. 

Harry  Walton  offered  no  further  remarks  upon  the  sub- 
ject, but  reseating  himself,  was  soon  engaged  in  a  sprightly 
conversation  with  his  companions.  Kitty  soon  joined 
them,  and  Flora  was  about  to  leave  the  room,  for  the 
purpose  of  removing  her  walking-dress,  when  Mr.  Fenn, 
taking  her  hand,  led  her  to  a  sofa  near,  saying  carelessly, 
as  he  did  so, 

"  You  can  lay  off  your  bonnet  and  shawl  here,  for  I  wish 
to  be  entertained  a  short  time.  I  am  lonely,  and  came  here 
to  have  you  cheer  me.  Will  you,  Flora  ?" 

"  It  will  give  me  great  pleasure  to  do  so,  if  I  can.  Shall 
I  play  for  you  ?"  she  asked,  removing  her  hand. 

"  No ;  please  to  talk  with  me.  I  had  much  rather  hear 
your  voice  in  conversation  to-night." 

"  I  am  a  very  poor  conversationalist,"  said  Flora,  taking 
the  proffered  seat  beside  him. 

"  And  the  reason  is  because  you  are  too  dreamy,"  said 
Mr.  Fenn,  "  too  ideal,  for  practical  talk ;"  and  a  shadow 
passed  over  his  fine  face.  "This  'purer  land'  of  which 
you  have  just  spoken — those  angel  spirits  that  look  at  you 
from  the  lily's  cup,  or  peep  through  the  expanding  leaves 
of  every  opening  flower — what  is  it  all  but  the  wild  gibber- 
ing of  fancy?  There  is  nothing  real  in  it,  and  such 
thoughts  will  poison  your  young  brain,  Flora.  Do  you 
not  know  it?" 

'  Are  you  jesting  with  me,  Mr.  Fenn?"  she  asked,  look- 
ing at  him  with  unfeigned  surprise.  "  I  cannot  believe  that 
you  express  your  real  sentiments  in  the  words  you  hav« 
just  uttered.  I  will  not  deny  that  fancy  adds  to  these 
golden  truths  many  winning  charms ;  but  would  you  not 
believe,  if  you  should  receive  from  your  distant  home  some 
brilliant  token  of  fond  remembrance  and  affection,  that  rt 


176  THE  PURPOSE  FULFILLED. 

whispered  to  you  of  love,  bringing  up  many  pleasing 
thoughts  from  the  past,  and  filling  the  future  with  blessed 
anticipations  ?  Such  are  flowers  to  me — blissful  lokens  of 
a  Father's  love." 

The  face  of  the  speaker  glowed  with  interest,  as  she  dwelt 
upon  the  favorite  theme  which  her  young  heart  had  cher- 
ished for  years,  and  in  whose  dreamy  depths  she  had  often 
found  comfort  and  pleasure. 

"  In  your  future  life  you  will  find  the  gilding  of  your  pet 
theory  wholly  worn  off,"  said  Mr.  Fenn,  musingly,  "and 
that  all  these  things  are  accomplished  by  the  most  practi- 
cal laws  of  nature — nothing  more." 

"Yes,  but  who  was  the  creator  of  Nature?  Who  en- 
dowed her  with  powers  adequate  to  bring  about  such 
pleasing  results  ?" 

"Let  me,  according  to  reputed  'Yankee  practice,'  ask 
you  a  question  before  answering :  Who  created  your  God  ? 
and  whence  came  His  power  ?" 

Flora  was  shocked,  yet  she  answered,  calmly,  "  No  human 
intellect  can  appreciate  or  understand  this  idea, '  without 
beginning  or  end.' " 

"  Very  true ;  there  is  mystery  everywhere  which  the  mind 
cannot  fathom.  But  do  you  really  believe  that  a  Being 
possessing  such  powerful  attributes  as  Maker  of  heaven 
and  earth  could  stoop  to  such  trifling  sport  as  decking  His 
stupendous  work  with  simple  perishing  flowers  ?" 

"Most  certainly  I  do;  and  it  is  so  sweet  to  know  it, 
for  it  is  not  merely  a  simple  act  of  faith,  but  a  cheering 
certainty." 

"  Flora,  you  are  an  enthusiast,"  he  said,  warmly. 

"  I  hope,"  she  replied,  meekly,  "  that  I  am  a  child  of  God, 
and  that  I  have  faith  in  His  reiterated  assurance  that '  not  a 
eparrow  falls  to  the  ground  without  His  notice.' " 

"Flora,"  he  said,  after  a  pause,  "I  fear  that  you  will 
think  worse  of  me  from  this  conversation  than  I  deserve. 
I  am  not  an  infidel ;  the  name  of  God  is  sacred  to  me,  as  U 


THE  PURPOSE  FULFILLED.  177 

also  His  character.  I  am  only  what  the  world  calls  '  practi- 
cal,' seeing  nothing  beyond  the  scop  3  of  my  natural  vision, 
yet  fully  appreciating  everything  noble  and  beautiful  that 
comes  within  its  range.  However,  I  did  not  come  here  to 
trouble  you  with  my  dull  theory,"  he  continued,  with  an 
evident  desire  to  change  the  subject,  "  but  to  have  a  pleasant 
littl  3  chat,  and  I  have  learned,  through  its  medium,  that  you 
have  thrice  falsely  represented  to  me  your  conversational 
powers." 

"  You  touched  the  silver  chord  in  my  heart  which  always 
vibrates  noisily,  in  spite  of  myself." 

A  short  silence  followed,  broken  by  Mr.  Fenn's  caielessly 
remarking, 

"  I  called  at  your  former  home  to-day." 

Flora  started,  she  knew  not  why ;  but  commanding  her- 
self, she  asked, 

" Did  you  find  them  all  well?" 

"  All  well,  but  unhappy." 

"Why  so?" 

"  Did  you  not  know  that  Lura  had  left  nome  and  gone 
no  one  knows  whither?" 

"  I  knew  she  had  gone." 

"  Very  strange  conduct  in  a  child,  truly,  and  something, 
too,  which  neither  the  family  nor  any  one  else  can  under- 
etand." 

Flora  did  not  speak,  and  he  continued : 

"  Her  sister  seemed  very  much  distressed,  and  it  was  my 
sympathy  for  her,  it  may  be,  which  made  me  feel  sad  to- 
night. Can  you  gi^e  me  any  information  concerning  the 
wayward  child  and  sister  with  which  I  can  comfort  the 
sorrowing  ones?" 

Without  appearing  to  notice  the  inquiry,  Flora  rejoined 
by  asking : 

"  Is  this  the  first  time  you  have  heard  of  the  '  wicked- 
ness '  of  this  poor  deluded  girl  ?" 

"  The  first  time,  for  I  supposed  It  had  just  happened." 


178  TEE  PURPOSE  FULFILLED. 

"  Oh  no ;  I  knew  of  it  two  months  ago." 

"  You  surprise  me,"  ejaculated  Mr.  Fenn,  while  a  shade 
of  though tfulness  gathered  upon  his  brow.  "  But  you  have 
given  me  no  information  concerning  her  present  abode." 

"  I  have  no  information  to  give,"  she  replied,  with  em- 
barrassment. "What  I  may  chance  to  know  can  do  her 
family  no  good,  unless  it  be  that  I  am  very  sure  she  is 
quite  well  and  happy." 

The  approach  of  Kitty  interrupted  the  conversation  at 
this  point. 

"  You  both  look  as  though  you  were  being  tortured  before 
a  confessional  or  suffering  with  the  nightmare,  and  no  doubt 
will  thank  any  one  for  interrupting  you.  Will  you  not, 
Flora?  But,"  exclaimed  Kitty,  "I  forgot  to  tell  you  that 
poor  Anna's  mother  is  very  sick.  She  was  here  this  morn- 
ing, and  tears  came  into  her  eyes  as  she  was  telling  us  about 
her.  Shall  we  not  go  and  see  her  in  the  morning  ?" 

"  By  all  means.     Poor  girl !  she  seems  so  sad." 

"  Isn't  it  too  bad  ?  Cousin  Hal  is  going,  and  will  not  be 
up  again  for  three  months.  It's  decidedly  too  bad." 

"  Ah !  but  you  have  a  keepsake — something  to  think 
of  every  day  during  that  time,"  said  the  young  man, 
coming  up. 

"No  I  haven't  The  flowers  will  be  faded  long  before 
that  time." 

"  Yes,  the  fairest  flowers  will  fade,  I  have  often  heard ; 
but  the  keepsake,  Kitty,"  he  said,  bending  over  her,  "  is 
our  morning  quarrel.  Will  you  cherish  it?" 

After  a  few  hasty  adieus  and  one  or  two  sage  admonitions 
from  Mrs.  Lane  on  needless  expenditures,  the  two  visilors 
left  the  house,  Harry  Walton  to  proceed  to  the  boat  which 
was  to  take  him  down  the  river,  and  Mr.  Fenn  to  his  room 
at  the  hotel  to  brood  over  his  thoughts  at  leisure. 

Lena  Edwards  was  certainly  not  beautiful,  but  there  was 
a  womanly  grace  and  meekness  about  her  that  had  charmed 
him ;  and  often,  as  he  sat  beside  her,  listening  to  the  modu- 


THE  PURPOSE  FULFILLED.  17& 

lated  tones  of  her  voice,  so  full  of  sympathy  and  love,  he 
felt  constrained  to  believe  her  the  very  embodiment  of  all 
goodness  and  womanly  gentleness.  Occasionally,  however, 
doubts  would  flit  before  him,  when  her  name  was  men- 
tioned by  others,  and  twice  he  had  beheld  the  shadow  upon 
one  beautiful  face  which  had  been  thrown  there  by  her. 
Ah!  why  was  this?  Thus  he  mused,  as  his  head  sank 
upon  his  pillow  that  night ;  and  when  he  dreamed,  thoughts 
of  other  days  brooded  over  him. 

Early  the  next  morning,  according  to  previous  arrange- 
ment, the  two  girls  started  to  visit  the  sick  mother  of  the 
poor  seamstress.  Flora  carried  a  small  basket  filled  with 
delicacies,  which  Mrs.  Lane  had  kindly  provided  for  the 
invalid,  and  hurriedly  but  pensively  they  proceeded  on 
their  way.  Kitty's  buoyant  spirits  were  unusually  clouded, 
and  her  vivacity  was  entirely  gone.  Flora  also  was  exceed- 
ingly sorrowful;  for  as  she  lay  restlessly  upon  her  pillow 
the  previous  night,  she  had  determined  this  day  should  not 
pass  without  a  communication  of  her  resolve  and  the  project 
of  her  removal  to  her  new  home  to  her  dearest  friends,  Mrs. 
Lane  and  Kitty.  But  oh,  how  hard  the  struggle  seemed, 
now  that  it  was  so  near!  They  had  been  so  kind,  so 
very  solicitous  for  her  happiness;  how  could  she  grieve 
them  ?  Even  Mr.  Lane,  who  never  spoke  unless  the  words 
were  pressed  out  of  him  by  compelling  circumstances,  had 
always  looked  so  pleasantly  upon  her,  and  his  morning 
and  evening  salutations  had  a  paternal  tenderness  in  them. 
They  could  not  be  at  all  suspicious  of  her  intentions,  she 
thought;  for  when  the  holiday  visit  to  New  York  was  dis- 
cussed, her  name  was  included  in  the  list.  How  much  she 
would  enjoy  such  a  recreation !  Her  duties  and  perplexities 
weighed  heavily  upon  her.  Could  she  but  throw  them  all 
aside  for  a  week  only,  how  much  lighter  the  burden  would 
seem  when  resumed !  But  no ;  why  should  her  body  be 
nourished  by  the  hand  of  dependence  ?  Other  hands  have 
toiled,  other  hearts  been  wearied  by  deepening  cares ;  why 


180  THE  PUEPOSE  FULFILLED. 

should  she  seek  exception,  and  clog  the  wheels  of  her  future 
happiness  by  the  unliquidated  debt  of  past  obligations? 
No,  no ;  she  was  strong  and  reputed  to  possess  talent ;  why 
should  she  not  use  it,  especially  when  by  so  doing  her  own 
happiness  would  be  increased  ? 

Kitty  first  broke  the  silence : 

"  Flora,  I  had  such  a  strange  dream  last  night.  It  makes 
me  sad,  for  I  cannot  rid  myself  of  the  conviction  that  it  will 
prove  true." 

Flora  was  on  the  point  of  indulging  in  raillery  at  her 
dreaming  tendencies,  but  she  saw  that  her  face  was  ashy 
pale,  and  that  her  lips  quivered  with  emotion. 

"  Why,  dear  Kitty,  how  is  this  ?  I  am  astonished  that 
you  should  be  thus  affected  by  an  idle,  wandering  dream. 
Tell  me  what  it  was.  You  know  I  am  skilled  in  the  art  of 
interpreting  the  meaning  of  these  midnight  marauders.  Tell 
me  all,  dear  Kitty ;  I  am  sure  you  have  no  reason  for  being 
thus  disturbed." 

"  I  suppose  that  I  must  have  been  sad  when  I  retired, 
for  I  do  love  Harry  dearly.  Oh,  Flora,  did  you  ever 
love?" 

Flora  blushed  deeply,  but  answered,  calmly : 

"  Oh  yes ;  I  have  loved  many,  and  you  among  the  num 
ber,  dear  girl." 

Kitty  did  not  notice  the  answer,  but  continued : 

"  You  heard  him  speak  at  parting  of  our  morning  quar- 
rel. Well,  I  pouted  because  he  said  that  if  he  remained 
here  yo  .1  would  steal  his  heart.  Then  he  came  to  me,  witlt 
his  beautiful  face  looking  so  sorrowful,  and  said  he  never 
could  love  any  one  else  half  so  well  as  he  loved  me,  called 
me  his  pet  flower,  his  poesy  of  love,  and  kissed  me  so  ten- 
derly. Oh,  Flora,  I  do  love  him  so  dearly!  Beautiful, 
noble  Harry  1" 

"  But  the  dream  ?"  suggested  Flora,  anxious  to  dispel  the 
gloom  which  was  weighing  her  down. 

" Oh  yes;  I  will  tell  you.    I  dreamed  that  I  was  dead— 


THE  PURPOSE  FULFILLED.  181 

yes,  Flora,  dead.  I  beheld  myself  cold,  pale  and  motion- 
less; and  although  seemingly  away  from  the  inanimate 
body,  yet  I  possessed  the  power  of  feeling.  Harry  came, 
and  bending  over  me,  bathed  my  marble  face  with  tears ; 
and  although  I  felt  them  burning  as  they  fell,  I  had  no 
power  to  return  his  caresses,  and  then,  oh,  then,  I  saw  him 
open  his  heart — yes,  his  heart,  dear  Flora — and  take  from 
its  secret  chamber,  which  he  whispered  was  the  one  kept 
sacred  for  my  love,  the  most  beautiful  flowers  that  I  ever 
beheld,  and  strew  them  over  me.  Flora,  was  it  not  strange 
— very  strange?  Still  he  continued  to  deck  my  lifeless 
form  until  it  was  hidden  from  sight,  and  a  pyramid  of 
rarest  exotics  lay  heaped  up  before  him.  Flora,  I  shall 
die,  and  Harry  will  embalm  my  memory  with  the  richest 
treasures  of  his  manly  heart.  I  know  it — yes,  I  know  it ;  I 
cannot  disbelieve  it  if  I  would,  and  your  art  of  seeking  out 
hidden  mysteries  will  avail  me  nothing." 

Flora  was  silent;  this  was  indeed  beyond  her  boasted 
skill.  They  had  slackened  their  pace  while  Kitty  was 
speaking,  but  already  the  humble  house  that  stood  a  little 
way  up  the  side  of  Mount  Ida  was  in  sight,  and  in  a  few 
moments  more  they  would  have  reached  it.  Flora,  en- 
deavoring to  assume  a  tranquil  demeanor,  which  she  was 
very  far  from  feeling,  at  last  spoke : 

"Kitty,  there  were  many  things  that  would  naturally 
have  influenced  your  dreams.  The  avowal  of  his  love,  the 
beautiful  flowers  he  gave  you,  then  his  departure,  your  sad- 
ness,— all  these  came  back  and  formed  themselves  into  the 
strange  scenes  you  witnessed  in  your  sleep.  There  is,  there 
can  be,  nothing  more  to  it,  and  I  beg  you  will  not  make 
yourself  unhappy  and  distress  your  darling  mother  by  such 
unfounded  fears.  Do  not,  dear  Kitty;  happiness  is  too 
rich  and  rare  a  boon  to  be  sacrificed  to  idle  dreams." 

They  had  reached  the  cottage,  and  a  gentle  tap  at  the 
door  brought  the  pale  young  seamstress  to  them.  She 

started  back  when  she  beheld  the  visitors,  and  a  rose- tinted 
id 


182  THE  PURPOSE  FULFILLED. 

blush  spread  over  her  neck  and  face.  A  smile  of  pleasure 
quickly  succeeded  it,  as  she  invited  them  to  enter.  On  the 
opposite  side  of  the  room,  close  by  an  open  window,  where 
some  luxuriaut  geraniums  shut  out  the  morning  BUT;,  sat  an 
aged  woman  in  an  easy  arm-chair,  fanned  by  the  fragrint 
breezes  that  came  down  the  hillside  and  played  with  the 
odorous  blossoms  standing  near  her. 

"  Mother  is  better,"  said  Anna,  in  response  to  their  in- 
quiry, as  they  advanced  toward  the  invalid,  who  was  ex- 
tending a  trembling  hand  to  welcome  them. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  with  a  feeble  smile ;  "  God  is  very 
good  to  me,  and  has  taken  away  all  my  pain.  I  am  very 
easy  and  very  happy  this  morning." 

Flora  pressed  the  soft,  wrinkled  hand  very  tenderly  in 
her  own,  as  she  said, 

"  But  you  are  still  very  weak." 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  and  a  smile  of  ineffable  sweetness 
stole  over  her  wan  features — "yes,  I  am  very  weak;  but 
God  is  my  strength ;  with  Him  I  shall  soon  be  at  rest." 

Anna  placed  her  hand  lovingly  upon  her  mother's  brow 
and  smoothed  back  the  silvery  locks,  while  a  tear  fell  upon 
her  cheek,  and  she  turned  hastily  aside  to  hide  it. 

"  This  visit  must  be  a  very  short  one,"  said  Flora,  hand 
ing  the  little  basket  to  Anna,  "  as  we  have  been  loitering  by 
the  way,  and  must  hasten  to  school." 

"  Oh,  mother,"  said  Anna,  cheerfully,  as  she  was  empty 
ing  the  basket,  "  here  is  a  bottle  of  wine.  Just  what  you 
wished  for  this  morning.  Mrs.  Lane  was  very  thoughtful 
to  send  it." 

"  Oh  yes,  she  was  very  kind,"  replied  the  feeble  voice. 
"  Carry  to  her  my  thanks,  and  may  God  reward  her." 

"  May  I  not  come  often  ?"  asked  Flora,  as  she  took  the 
invalid's  hand  at  parting. 

"  As  often  as  you  wish,  both  of  you,"  she  said,  extending 
her  other  hand  to  Kitty ;  "  we  shall  always  be  happy  to  »e« 
you." 


THE  PURPOSE  FULFILLED.  183 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Kitty,  and  Flora  raised  the  emaciated 
hand  to  her  lips,  and  they  departed. 

All  the  morning  Kitty  remained  silent  and  dejected. 
But  the  sparkling  effervescence  of  her  young  and  joyous 
nature  could  not  remain  long  compressed ;  and  when  she 
returned  home  at  night,  she  was  the  same  happy  Kitty, 
with  the  exception  of  a  shade  of  thoughtfulness  that  still 
lingered  upon  her  face,  which  would  occasionally,  when  left 
to  repose,  deepen  into  an  expression  of  seriousness. 

When  Mrs.  Lane  had  retired  to  her  private  dressing- 
room,  as  was  her  usual  custom  before  attiring  herself  for 
the  evening,  Flora  stole  noiselessly  in,  and  coming  up  be- 
hind the  chair  in  which  she  was  sitting,  stooped  and  kissed 
her  smooth  white  forehead. 

"  Ah,  ma  belle  /"  she  exclaimed,  without  raising  her  eyes 
from  the  piece  of  embroidery  she  held  in  her  hand;  "  I  was 
thinking  of  you — both  of  you,  my  children — and  have  con- 
cluded that  you  must  be  dressed  alike  at  the  quarterly  hop 
which  comes  off  four  weeks  from  to-day." 

Flora  did  not  speak.  Her  heart  was  too  full,  and  she 
felt  the  hot  tears  swelling  up  from  its  overflowing  depths. 

"  You  are  both  to  be  in  the  '  garland  dance,'  aren't  you  ?" 
and  she  raised  her  eyes  for  the  first  time. 

"  Kitty  is  not  here,"  said  Flora,  her  voice  betraying  her 
agitation,  "  for  I  chose  to  come  alone  to  talk  with  you.  Oh, 
my  dear  friend,"  she  continued,  weeping,  "  you  will  think 
me  heartless  and  unappreciative,  but  it  is  not  so.  I  am 
very  thankful  for  all  the  kindness  you  have  shown  me, 
and  prize  your  love  more  than  my  poor  tongue  can 
tell." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?"  interrupted  Mrs.  Lane,  while  an 
angry  shadow  clouded  her  face — "  what  do  you  mean,  girl  ? 
Speak !  You  do  not  surely  propose  to  put  your  silly  re- 
Bolve  into  execution  which  you  mentioned  to  me  many 
weeks  ago  ?" 

j"  answered  Flora,  firmly,  driving  back  her  tears; 


184  THE  PURPOSE  FULFILLED. 

"  I  must  leave  this  pleasant  home  you  have  so  kindly  prof- 
fered me,  and  upon  which  I  have  trespassed  too  long 
already,  throw  off  the  indolence  which  so  illy  becomes 
one  in  my  position,  and  do  as  my  better  judgment  impels 
me  to  do — earn  my  own  bread." 

"Is  this  your  unalterable  determination?"  asked  th« 
lady,  sternly. 

u  Yes,  it  is.  Long  have  I  struggled  with  inclination  and 
duty,  but  the  conflict  is  over,  and  my  purpose  fixed  as  the 
law  of  the  Medes  and  Persians." 

"  Then  go,  heartless  girl !  I  have  cherished  you  with 
fond  maternal  love ;  but  if  you  can  so  unrelentingly  tear 
yourself  from  my  affections,  I  cast  you  from  me  as  an  un- 
worthy thing.  Go !" 

"  Do  not  be  angry  with  me,"  Flora  pleaded,  while  the 
tears  streamed  down  her  burning  cheeks.  "  I  would  do  aa 
you  wish,  if  it  were  possible,  but  something  compels  me  to 
go :  I  cannot  stay." 

"  No  one  invites  you  stay.  On  the  contrary,  I  bid  you 
go ;"  and  the  angry  woman  arose  and  rang  the  bell.  "  Bid 
Kitty  come  to  me,"  she  said  to  a  servant  who  appeared ; 
and  Flora,  burying  her  face  in  her  hands,  hurried  from  the 
room. 

"Oh,  this  is  too  bad,  too  bad!"  she  sobbed,  throwing 
herself  upon  the  bed  in  the  room  she  had  so  long  called 
her  own ;  "  I  did  not  expect  this.  Oh,  why  is  Fate  so  stern 
with  me?  Every  pleasure  turns  to  bitter  ashes  on  my  lips. 
0  God !  thou  wilt  never  forsake  me — no,  never  I"  and  the 
trembling  hands  were  clasped  and  the  streaming  eyes 
turned  supplicatingly  upward.  A  full  half-hour  passed 
thus,  when  the  door  slowly  opened,  and  Kitty  stole  softly 
up  to  her  side. 

"  Flora,  you  are  very  cruel,"  she  said,  laying  her  hand 
coldly  upon  her  shoulder.  "  My  dear  mamma  is  more  dis- 
appointed than  you  can  well  imagine.  It  seems  she  had  a 
pet  plan  which  but  now  reached  my  e*r,  and  as  you  may 


THE  PURPOSE  FULFILLED.  185 

•uppose  takes  away  the  sting  of  our  parting,"  she  continued, 
with  perceptible  irony  in  her  voice :  "  it  was  that  you  should 
enter  our  family  fold  as  the  wife  of  Harry  Walton." 

"  Impossible  I"  exclaimed  Flora,  rising  to  her  feet. 

"  No,  not  impossible,  but  altogether  possible,  as  I  have 
just  received  the,  astonishing  disclosure  from  her  own  lips. 
On  this  account  I  came  to  ask  you  not  to  meet  her  again ; 
she  is  very  angry  with  you,  and  considers  you  very  stub- 
born. But,  Flora,  we  are  not  angry  with  each  other,  are 
we  ?"  she  asked,  stepping  forward  and  kissing  the  weeping 
girl.  Flora  caught  her  in  her  arms,  and  for  a  few  moments 
the  two  girls  wept,  clasped  in  fond  embrace. 

"  Now,  good-bye,  Kitty,"  said  Flora,  more  cheerfully ;  "  I 
must  go." 

"To-night?" 

"Yes,  now." 

"Oh,  how  lonely  I  shall  be!"  sobbed  Kitty;  "but  we 
shall  meet  every  day  at  school,  and  I  can  tell  you  all 
my  troubles  there.  Good-bye ;"  and  she  hastened  from  the 
room. 

In  a  short  time  Flora  had  packed  her  trunk  and  was  on 
her  way  to  Mrs.  Clark's  humble  abode,  where  peace  and 
love  awaited  her. 


CHAPTER  XXV.  . 

THE  DIAMOND  BROOCH. 

TT  was  a  sad  day  for  Flora  when,  released  from  the  cares 
JL  and  excitement  attendant  upon  her  removal  to  and 
initiation  in  her  new  home,  she  found  time  to  sit  quietly 
down  and  think.  Oh,  how  often  dark,  intruding  thoughts 
will  come  to  disturb  our  present  peace — memories  that 
come  gurgling  up  from  the  past,  with  their  sad  pensive 
music,  filling  our  ears  with  discordant  notes  and  our  hearts 
with  an  echoing  wail  of  discontent ! 

She  was  seated  by  a  little  table  in  her  own  room,  with 
her  book  opened  before  her.  There  was  a  storm  abroad ; 
the  hail  and  the  rain  were  beating  violently  against  the 
panes.  For  the  first  time  she  realized  her  unpleasant  posi- 
tion, and  how  very  disagreeable  it  would  be  to  go  on  foot 
and  unattended  the  long  distance  that  lay  between  the 
school  and  her  present  home  on  such  an  evening  as  this. 
The  wind  whistled  drearily  around  the  clapboards  of  the 
dilapidated  old  building,  and  still  her  thoughts  ran  on. 
Had  she  been  wise  in  throwing  off  ease  and  position  to 
gratify  a  spirit  of  independence  which  so  many  of  her 
friends  had  chosen  to  condemn,  and  thereby  lose  that 
affection  which  had  been  so  precious  to  her?  Kitty,  to  be 
sure,  was  still  hers ;  the  same  friendly  smile  was  sure  to 
greet  her  each  morning,  as  they  met ;  there  was  the  same 
soft  pressure  of  the  hand,  as  they  joined  each  other  in  theii 
various  classes ;  yet  it  could  not  be  denied  that  somewhat 
of  reserve  had  sprung  up  between  them  which  would  not 
be  removed.  Tears  dimmed  the  large,  piercing  eyes  of  the 
once  happy  Indian  girl,  and  her  head  dropped  heavily 

186 


THE  DIAMOND  BROOCH.  187 

upon  the  closed  book  before  her.  Then  came  those  sweetly 
soothing  words  which  had  so  often  been  whispered  into  her 
ear  during  the  last  few  weeks : 

"  I  love  you,  Flora ;  be  a  sister  to  my  precious  child,  and 
we  will  all  be  happy  together." 

Ah !  why  had  she  thrown  away  such  a  priceless  gem, 
euch  unselfish  love?  But  it  was  gone,  and  in  its  place 
there  stood  a  demon  of  anger,  mocking  her  with  its  poison- 
ing face  and  its  terrible  gestures. 

Then  there  was  another,  a  tall  form,  a  noble  heart,  whose 
kindly  sympathy  and  tender  affection  had  often  beamed 
upon  her  from  a  pair  of  dark,  soul-stirring  eyes,  that  had 
spoken  to  her  a  brother's  love  when  his  lips  moved  not. 
But  why  should  she  think  of  him  ?  He  had  warned  her 
of  her  folly,  and  advised  her  with  earnest  solicitations. 
All  were  gone.  One  by  one  the  closely  entwining  fibres  of 
her  earthly  happiness  had  been  snapped  asunder  ere  she 
was  aware  that  her  own  life  had  become  encircled  by  them. 
Yes,  they  were  gone — all  gone ;  and  far  back  among  the 
ruins,  the  scattered  ruins,  of  her  short-lived  joys,  she  be- 
held the  broken  links  of  a  dearer  love.  Edgarton,  the  pale- 
faced  Englishman,  had  snapped  the  gilded  chain  that  his 
own  hand  had  woven,  and  its  fragments  were  now  lying  in 
the  dust,  to  be  trampled  at  last  out  of  sight  for  ever  by  the 
iron  heel  of  certainty. 

A  gentle  tap  upon  the  half-open  door  announced  Mrs. 
Clark,  who  held  in  her  hand  a  delicate  sealed  note. 

"A  boy  is  below  waiting  for  your  answer,"  she  said, 
handing  it  to  Flora. 

Oh,  how  her  heart  beat  with  inexpressible  joy  as  she 
recognized  in  the  superscription  the  well-known  hand- 
writing of  Mrs.  Lane  1 

"  Please  tell  him  I  will  be  down  soon,"  she  said,  as  she 
eagerly  broke  the  seal.  Ah !  why  does  the  cheek,  so  lately 
aglow  with  excitement,  turn  suddenly  pale,  and  her  eyes 
grow  dim,  as  she  sinks  motionless  down-upoo  the  chair? 


188  THE  DIAMOND  BROOCH. 

The  cup  is  full  at  last ;  drop  after  drop  has  been  added  to 
the  bitter  draught,  until,  trembling,  shrinking,  her  young 
spirit  quails  faintingly  from  the  appalling  potion.  A  deep 
groan  reached  the  ear  of  Lura,  who  was  sitting  in  an  adjoin- 
ing room,  busily  plying  her  needle  and  reveling  in  the 
mystic  dance  of  her  own  bright  fancies.  Hastily  throwing 
down  the  work,  she  rushed  in,  just  in  time  to  catch  the 
fainting  girl  as  she  fell,  apparently  lifeless,  to  the  floor.  A 
smothered  cry  of  surprise  escaped  her  lips,  as  she  beheld 
the  upturned  face ;  but  at  that  moment  her  eye  fell  upon 
the  paper  clasped  tightly  in  the  hand  of  the  excited  girl. 
Feeling  assured,  at  a  glance,  that  this  was  the  cause  of  her 
distress,  she  snatched  it  from  her,  and  read  as  follows : 

"  FLORA  :  It  grieves  me  to  write  these  lines  to  one  I  so 
lately  thought  pure  and  guileless,  but  duty  prompts  me  to 
action,  and  I  cannot  hesitate.  It  may  save  a  deluded  girl 
from  a  lifetime  of  ignominy  and  shame.  The  little  diamond 
brooch,  Kitty's  birthday  present  from  her  father  while  you 
were  here,  has  been  missing  since  your  departure.  Unwill- 
ing to  suspect  you  of  so  great  a  crime  as  the  loss  of  this 
much  valued  trinket  might  suggest,  we  have  for  the  last 
three  days  sought  diligently  for  it,  but,  as  you  well  know, 
unsuccessfully.  Kitty  remembers  perfectly  placing  it  upon 
your  toilet  at  your  last  interview,  and  Mary,  the  chamber- 
maid, while  passing  your  door  a  few  moments  afterward, 
Baw  it  in  your  hand.  These  circumstances  have  finally 
brought  us  to  the  unwilling  conclusion  that  you  still  have 
it  in  your  possession.  Poor  deluded  girl !  Return  it  to  me 
by  the  bearer  of  this  note,  and  for  the  sake  of  the  love  I 
once  bore  you  nothing  more  shall  be  said  of  it. 

"  Yours,  in  haste, 

"  C.  C.  LANE." 

"Fiend!"  hissed  Lura  through  her  pale  lips,  while  she 
furiously  crumpled  the  paper  in  h«r  hand,  ai  the  burning 


THE  DIAMOND  BROOCH.  189 

flood  of  hatred  once  more  leaped  from  her  piercing  gray 
eye.  "  I'll  answer  this  note  before  that  poor  girl  recovers 
to  prevent  me.  Yes,  I'll  answer  it ;"  and  suiting  the  action 
to  her  resolution,  in  a  few  moments  she  had  penned  these 
lines : 

"  Cruel  woman !  The  curse  of  a  just  God  shall  rest  upon 
y<  ;u,  for  you  have  offended  one  of  the  purest  and  loveliest 
of  his  chosen  ones,  who  lies  pale  and  lifeless  upon  the  floor 
at  my  feet.  She  is  innocent,  and  the  Father  whom  she 
loves  will  avenge  her  wrongs." 

Hastily  she  signed  and  sealed  the  little  missive,  and  hur- 
ried with  it  down  to  the  parlor,  where  Jim  awaited  a  reply. 
In  a  few  minutes  after,  Mrs.  Clark  and  Lura  had  placed 
the  insensible  Flora  upon  the  bed,  and  were  busily  engaged 
in  restoring  her  to  consciousness. 

"  It  is  strange,"  said  the  kind  old  lady,  as  she  sat  rubbing 
the  cold  hands  with  her  wrinkled  palms ;  "  I  did  not  know 
but  she  was  well,  or  she  should  not  have  worked  BO  busily 
all  the  morning,  running  up  and  down  stairs,  sweeping  and 
dusting.  And  I  am  sure  I  heard  her  singing,  or  it  might 
have  been  a  bird  upon  the  lilac  bush ;"  and  the  kind-hearted 
soul  wiped  her  eyes  with  the  corner  of  her  checked  apron, 
then  went  busily  on  with  her  work. 

"  It's  of  no  use,"  said  Lura,  placing  the  bottle  of  camphor 
upon  the  table ;  "  there  are  no  signs  of  returning  conscious- 
ness, which  I  can  see.  You  sit  here,  while  I  run  for  a  physi- 
cian ;"  and  without  waiting  for  a  reply,  she  bounded  out  of 
the  room,  and  hastily  putting  on  Flora's  bonnet  and  shawl, 
was  soon  in  the  street,  pelted  by  the  pitiless  storm,  which 
she  heeded  not,  but  ran  with  a  quick  step  over  the  icy 
pavement.  She  was  suddenly  arrested  by  a  voice  ex- 
claiming, 

"  Flora,  why  are  you  out  in  such  a  storm  as  this  ?" 

As  the  speaker  caught  sight  of  the  astonished  face  be- 
teath  the  closely  fitting  bonnet,  he  started  back  in  BUT- 


190  THE  DIAMOND  BROOCH. 

prise,  and  would  have  offered  an  apology,  but  was  inter- 
rupted by  Lura,  who  said, 

'•Your  mistake  is  easily  accounted  for.  But  Flora  .a 
very  ill ;  I  was  or  my  way  for  a  physician." 

"  Flora  is  ill  ?"  he  repeated,  with  a  start.  "  Return  to 
your  home ;  I  will  myself  bring  one  in  five  minutes ;"  and 
ES  he  perceived  that  she  hesitated,  he  continued:  "I  am 
her  friend ;  trust  me." 

Lura  obeyed,  and  in  a  few  minutes  after,  Doctor  Hillman 
entered.  Lura  was  at  the  door  to  receive  him,  when  his 
companion  whispered, 

"  Permit  me  to  send  a  messenger  occasionally  to  bring 
news  of  her." 

Lura  bowed  permission,  and  then  followed  the  physician 
up  the  narrow  stairway. 

A  full  half-hour  more  elapsed  before  the  large,  dreamy 
eyes  of  Flora  opened  slowly,  then  looked  wildly  around. 

"Where  is  it?"  she  asked,  in  a  low  voice,  of  Lura,  who 
was  standing  over  her. 

"  Safe ;  I  have  it.     No  one  has  seen  it." 

"Thank  you."  Then  the  long,  dark  lashes  drooped 
again  upon  the  pale  cheek,  and  her  lips  trembled  as  if 
agitated  by  some  inward  struggle. 

"A  slow  nervous  fever,"  said  the  doctor  to  the  inquiring 
looks  of  Mrs.  Clark.  "  We  must  keep  her  very  quiet  for 
a  few  days,  while  Miss  Edwards  exercises  her  skill  at 
nursing." 

Lura  started,  and  for  the  first  time  recognized  in  the 
speaker  their  old  family  ph3rsician.  who  had  attended  her 
lather  some  years  before,  during  a  severe  illness. 

"  I  hope  I  may  be  very  successful,"  she  replied,  endeavor 
ing  to  appear  unmoved ;  but  her  voice  trembled  slightly, 
and  the  glow  upon  her  cheek  deepened  into  a  crimson  hue 
and  suffused  her  neck  and  face. 

a  How  provoking !"  she  muttered,  as  the  door  closed  be- 
hind him.  "  But  it  is  over  now.  I  shall  no  uiubt,  after 


THE  DIAMOND  BROOCH.  191 

this  lapse  of  time,  be  left  to  enjoy  my  misery  unmo- 
lested." 

There  was  bitter  irony  in  her  last  words,  but  it  was  soon 
forgotten,  as  Mrs.  Clark  left  the  room,  and  Flora's  eyes  were 
once  more  fixed  with  an  appealing  look  upon  her  face. 

"  Do  not  distress  yourself,"  she  said,  stooping  to  kiss  the 
pallid  brow.  "I  answered  that  hateful  note  by  asserting 
your  innocence,  of  course;  and  as  it  will  soon  be  found, 
nothing  more  will  be  thought  of  it." 

"But  what  if  it  should  not?"  murmured  the  sick  girl. 
"What  if  some  unlucky  chance  should  have  forever  re- 
moved it  from  sight?  Oh,  Lura,  I  cannot  always  bear 
about  with  me  such  a  body  of  death;  I  should  sink  be- 
neath the  dreadful  weight."  A  convulsive  sob  broke  from 
her  overburdened  heart,  and  her  pale  lips  once  more  took 
on  their  ashy  hue. 

"  Flora,  Flora,"  exclaimed  the  agitated  girl,  "  you  must 
not !  Where  is  the  trust  you  have  placed  in  that  kind  and 
merciful  Being  to  whom  you  daily  apply  the  endearing 
appellation  'Father,'  and  who  you  have  taught  me  to  be- 
lieve never  leaves  or  forsakes  his  helpless  ones  ?  .  Do  you 
not  love  Him  to-day,  Flora  ?  and  will  He  not  be  grieved  at 
your  distrust  of  His  paternal  care  ?  You  are  innocent,  my 
precious  bird,  and  God  will  bring  light  out  of  this  great 
darkness." 

"  I  know  it,"  answered  a  feeble,  murmuring  voice.  "  But 
oh,  it  is  midnight  to  my  soul;  I  cannot  see  through  the 
thick  gathering  gloom." 

"  You  will,  Flora ;  but  you  must  not  talk.  I  will  take 
your  Bible  and  read  to  you.  Shall  I?" 

For  a  long  time  Lura  continued  to  read  the  words  of 
hope  and  promise,  which  fell  like  golden  sunbeams  across 
the  dark,  gloomy  future  of  a  sorrowing  heart,  unmindful 
that  the  soothing  opiate  her  hands  had  administered  had 
-akeu  effect,  and  that  the  grief-stricken  Flora  now  lay  quietly 
sleeping  upon  her  pillow,  dreaming,  perhaps,  of  a  rude  but 


192  THE  DIAMOND  BROOCH. 

quiet  home  upon  the  mountain-side,  where  the  dense  forest 
shut  out  the  world  and  the  birds  sung  all  day  long  in  the 
dark  green  branches  above  her.  Perhaps  a  dark-eyed  war- 
rior stood  before  her,  and  breathed  once  more  into  her  ear 
the  earnest  words  of  unpolished  love  ;  or,  it  may  be,  memory 
had  learned  life's  sweetest  notes,  and  stealing  softly  within 
the  curtain  sleep  had  drawn  around  the  agitating  present, 
was  filling  up  the  passing  moments  with  its  delicious  melody, 
for  a  smile  played  around  the  parted  lips,  and  the  rosy 
tint  of  joy  suddenly  appeared  once  more  upon  the  pallid 
cheek. 

"Beautiful,  innocent  sleeper!"  murmured  Lura,  as  she 
gently  pressed  her  lips  to  the  delicately  formed  hand  that 
was  clasped  in  her  own.  "  Oh,  how  much  better  it  would 
be  for  her  happiness  should  she  never  wake  again !  Poor 
child !  doomed  to  be  the  sport  of  changing  fortune.  I  can 
almost  find  it  in  my  heart  to  wish  it  might  be  so.  Oh, 
what  is  life,  that  we  should  covet  it?  or  death,"  she  con- 
tinued, with  a  shudder,  "  that  we  should  not  invoke  it  upon 
those  we  love  ?" 

Ah !  there  are  many  hearts  whose  purest  fountains  have 
been  poisoned  in  early  life  by  harsh,  cold  words,  by  cruel 
taunts  and  jeers,  which  a  long  series  of  years  have  failed  to 
eradicate.  The  bitter  waters  would  ever  and  anon  rise  to 
the  surface,  choking  good  resolves  and  effectually  submerg- 
ing the  best  purposes  of  life.  Lura  often  felt  this,  as  she 
beheld  the  bitter  spirit  of  hatred  with  which  her  childhood 
had  been  haunted  rising  up  before  her,  and  she  longed  for 
the  gently  penetrating  influence  of  that  religion  which  she 
BUW  shedding  its  silent  power  upon  the  daily  life  of  her 
f:*iend  to  drive  it  away.  "Forgive  as  we  forgive  those  who 
have  trespassed  against  us."  This  petition,  which  every 
morning  fell  from  her  lips,  had  not  as  yet  found  its  way, 
with  all  its  mighty  import,  into  that  one  dark  chamber  of 
her  soul,  and  still  she  struggled  on. 

"  Flora,  you  are  certainly  better  this  morning,"  said  Lura, 


THE  DIAMOND  BROOCH.  193 

for  at  least  the  third  time,  as  she  darted  in  and  out  of  the 
little  room  to  see  if  everything  was  in  perfect  order  before 
the  doctor  came. 

"  Oh  yes,  much  better,"  was  the  feeble  response ;  "  I  shall 
soon  be  well  and  happy  again,"  she  added,  with  a  faint 
iinile. 

A  knock  was  heard.  "  The  doctor  is  at  the  door ;  I  will 
lot  him  in ;"  and  Lura  bounded  lightly  down  the  stairs.  In 
a  few  moments,  however,  she  returned  alone. 

"  Did  you  ever  see  anything  half  BO  beautiful  ?"  and  she 
held  up  a  rare  bouquet  of  flowers.  "  Isn't  it  magnificent  ? 
Why  don't  you  scream  or  swoon,  or  perform  some  other 
ecstatic  feat  ?  I  am  sure  you  take  it  much  too  coolly.  Why, 
my  dear  girl,  you  are  weeping,"  she  exclaimed,  for  the  first 
time  raising  her  eyes  from  the  beautiful  flowers  to  the  face 
of  her  companion.  "  Forgive  me ;"  and  she  kissed  the  pale 
face  tenderly.  "  Why  do  you  weep  ?  Are  you  not  pleased 
to  receive  such  a  beautiful  gift  ?  The  giver  no  doubt  thought 
to  make  you  happy." 

"  Does  he  know — "  A  sob  checked  her  utterance,  and  she 
buried  her  face  in  her  hands  and  wept  unrestrainedly. 

"  I  do  not  know  who  sent  them,"  replied  Lura,  in  surprise. 
"  A  boy  of  mean  appearance  brought  them  to  the  door.,  in- 
quired how  you  were,  said  these  were  for  you,  and  left," 

"  Well  do  I  know  the  giver,"  she  replied,  removing  her 
hands  and  extending  one  toward  the  neglected  flowers, 
whose  perfume  had  filled  the  room,  "  and  I  also  understand 
the  kindness  which  prompted  his  noble  heart.  No,  no ;  he 
does  not  think  me  the  guilty  creature  which  others  would 
make  me,  or  he  would  never  have  sent  these  pure  visitors 
into  my  polluting  presence." 

A  tiny  slip  of  paper  nestled  among  the  leaves,  which 
Flora  opened  with  trembling  hands. 

"  Flora,  I  heard  you  say  once  that  these  talked  to  you  of 
heaven ;  converse  freely  with  them,  and  be  comforted." 

There  was  no  need  of  a  signature.    One  alone  in  the 

17 


194  THE  DIAMOND  BROOCH. 

entire  city  could  have  written  those  words — one  hand  alone 
could  have  sent  such  consolation  in  her  night  of  sorrow. 
Comforting  angels  seemed  whispering  to  her  through  those 
half-opened  leaves;  and  when,  upon  the  succeeding  n_orn- 
ing,  the  messenger  returned,  bringing  with  him  a  basket  of 
delicious  fruit,  he  bore  away  the  cheering  intelligence  that 
Flora  was  rapidly  recovering. 

"A  visitor  for  you,  Lura,"  said  Mrs.  Clark,  as  toward 
evening  she  ascended  to  the  room  where  the  two  gills 
were  sitting,  both  silently  communing  with  their  own 
thoughts. 

"  For  me !"  exclaimed  Lura,  starting  to  her  feet  and  turn- 
ing suddenly  pale. 

"  Yes ;  it  is  your  brother,  Lura.  He  seems  anxious  to  see 
you,  and  says  he  will  detain  you  but  a  moment  from  your 
sick  friend,  but  that  he  must  see  you." 

"  Very  well ;  he  shall  see  me ;"  and  hastily  throwing  aside 
her  work,  she  left  the  room. 

"  Is  the  path  of  our  earthly  existence  to  be  filled  up  with 
such  dark  spots  all  along  through  life?"  asked  Flora,  a<* 
her  kind  old  friend  took  her  seat  in  the  chair  vacated  by 
Lura. 

"  My  child,  there  is  no  spot  so  dark  that  hope  does  not 
shine  upon  it,  unless  we  shut  it  out  with  our  own  willful 
hands ;  and  if  we  do,  why,  we  deserve  to  grope  a  while, 
that's  all.  Isn't  it  so?"  she  asked,  kindly,  taking  the  hand 
of  the  earnest  questioner. 

Lura  found  her  brother  standing  in  the  centre  of  the  little 
parlor,  gazing  around  upon  the  humble  furniture  which  it 
contained  with  an  air  of  disgust  amusing  to  behold,  and  the 
feeling  of  regret  that  he  should  have  discovered  her  retreat 
vanished,  as  she  looked  upon  him ;  and  approaching,  she 
extended  her  hand  to  bid  him  welcome.  He  started  back, 
looked  at  her  for  a  moment  without  speaking,  then  lisped : 

"  Phelura,  will  you  leave  this  vulgar  place  and  return  to 
your  home,  where  respect  and  position  await  you?"  H« 


THE  DIAMOND  BROOCH.  195 

paused,  retreated  to  the  window,  stroked  fondly  his  petted 
chin  and  waited  for  an  answer. 

"  I  call  no  place  vulgar  where  peace  and  happiness  coma 
tc  bind  up  and  heal  my  heart.  Humble  and  lowly  it  may 
be  as  the  one  I  now  call  mine,  but  dearer  far  is  it  to  me, 
with  its  present  joys,  than  the  one  you  offer,  where  sorrow 
and  tears  were  my  daily  companions.  No,  Edgar,  I  will 
not  return  with  you." 

"  Listen.  I  am  sorry  for  you,"  he  said,  advancing  and 
taking  her  hand ;  "  you  do  not  realize  all  that  is  before  you. 
I  am  commissioned  by  our  parents  to  inform  you  that  if 
you  now  refuse  their  humble  offer  of  forgiveness  and  a 
home,  it  will  never  again  be  proffered  to  you,  and  you,  my 
sister,  will  never  be  recognized  by  them  as  a  child,  or  even 
as  an  acquaintance.  In  this  Lena  bade  me  tell  you  she 
most  heartily  joined.  Will  you  not  reconsider  your  re- 
fusal?" 

"  And  you — on  which  side  of  the  terrible  dividing  gulf 
are  you  to  stand  ?" 

The  old  fire  suddenly  became  relighted  in  her  eyes,  as 
she  uttered  these  words,  while  a  crimson  glow  dyed  her 
cheeks  with  an  unnatural  hue. 

"I — I — what — I?"  stammered  the  bewildered  youth. 
"  Why,  'pon  my  word  I  I  have  not  considered  the  matter 
fully.  We  never  quarreled  much,  did  we,  sister?  But, 
really,"  he  continued,  walking  up  in  front  of  the  little 
mirror  and  at  the  same  time  elevating  his  luminous  top- 
knot with  his  taper  fingers,  "  it  will  be  very  mortifying  to 
o\\  n  a  poor  seamstress  in  such  a  dilapidated  hovel  as  this 
for  a  sister,  it  would  indeed.  I  would  much  prefer  to  have 
you  return  home." 

"  But  suppose  I  will  not?"  persisted  Lura;  "  what  then?" 

"But  you  will?" 

"  No.  Listen  to  me  just  a  moment.  As  long  ago  as  I  can 
remember,  when  I  was  but  a  child,  and  before  we  came  to 
this  pleasant  city,  I  have  hid  myself  in  some  attic  corner, 


196  THE  DIAMOND  BROOCH. 

where  no  mortal  eye  or  the  keen  darts  of  reproach  could 
reach  me,  and  then,  in  solitude,  on  bended  knees,  1  have 
wept  such  bitter  tears  as  childhood  seldom  knows.  Then 
I  have  hated,  and  dwelt  upon  my  wrongs  until  my  brain 
grew  mad  and  I  tore  my  hair  from  my  excess  of  grief.  I 
said  I  hated.  Yes.  They  scorned — despised  me,  and  my 
sensitive  nature  recoiled  before  it,  only  to  hug  in  its  close 
embrace  the  stinging  viper  of  hatred.  I  could  not  live  in 
the  midst  of  such  a  deadly  combat.  Heart  and  soul  seemed 
withering  beneath  the  angry  looks  and  words  of  constant 
reproach.  Others  less  sensitive  than  myself  might  have 
conformed  to  the  demands  of  assumed  superiors,  and  pass 
by  what  some  might  be  pleased  to  call  the  penalty  my 
appearance  and  position  brought  upon  me.  But  I  could 
not,  and  therefore  I  am  here ;  and  in  the  genial  atmosphere 
of  kindness  and  love,  I  feel  my  better  nature  growing 
stronger,  and  something  within  assures  me  I  shall  not 
always  be,  even  to  those  who  never  proffered  me  affection, 
the  neglected  '  Fury '  of  former  days.  You  may  tell  them, 
brother,  to  do  by  me  and  my  connection  with  the  family 
precisely  as  they  choose.  I  will  never  return  to  the  home 
that  God  and  the  laws  of  humanity  gave  me  as  my  own 
of  right,  until  I  enter  as  the  acknowledged  equal  of  my 
more  favored  sister.  This  can  never  be  done  by  any  power 
which  they  possess.  Therefore,  for  the  present,  I  remain 
where  I  am." 

"I  know  you  were  not  treated  right,"  said  the  young 
man,  walking  toward  the  door ;  "  but  it  would  take  a  good 
many  harsh  words  to  drive  me  down  where  you  are. 
Cold  looks  from  human  eyes,  it  appears  to  me,  would  not 
be  half  so  provoking  as  the  stare  of  this  stiff  wooden 
furniture." 

"Their  gaze  is  friendly,"  said  Lura,  attempting  to 
Bmile,  "and  does  not  awaken  in  my  heart  any  feeling 
of  anger." 

The  young  man  laughed,  bowed  low  and  left  the  house. 


THE  DIAMOND  BROOCH.  197 

u  I  am  alone  now  with  you,"  said  Lura,  a  few  moments 
after,  bending  over  Flora  and  kissing  the  pale  upturned 
face.  "You  will  be  my  sister.  Oh.  tell  me,  Flora,  you  will 
ever  be  my  sister,  will  you  not?" 

"  For  ever,"  murmured  Flora.  "  But  what  do  you  mean  ? 
They  cannot — " 

"  Yes,  the  choice  has  been  presented  before  me — dispoli; 
tion  of  the  family  bonds  or  a  return  to  my  childhood't 
home.  Flora,  I  am  not  quite  dead  to  all  affection  for 
kindred — indeed,  I  do  not  hate,  as  I  once  did — and  the 
severing  has  been  more  painful  than  I  could  have  imag- 
ined. But  it  is  all  over  now,  and  the  broad  future  is  before 
me.  Back,  back,  unbidden  tears!"  and  she  pressed  her 
hand  upon  her  heart.  "  Such  wounds  as  these  cannot  be 
healed  by  liquid  drops." 

And  yet,  when  her  head  rested  upon  her  pillow,  did  they 
continue  to  flow,  and  not  until  morning  peeped  in  at  the 
open  window  did  her  face  assume  its  wonted  smile,  and 
cheerfulness  once  more  settle  down  upon  her  drooping 
spirits. 

17  • 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 
THE  DREAM  FULFILLED. 

IT  was  a  chill,  frosty  autumnal  evening  when  Lnra  en- 
tered the  quaint  old  parlor  with  a  lighted  oil  lamp, 
which  she  placed  upon  the  small  table  drawn  up  before 
the  brisk  fire  which  crackled  and  blazed  cheerfully  upon 
the  hearth. 

"  Now,  Flora,"  she  said,  filling  the  table  with  books  and 
papers — "now  for  a  feast  of  fat  things.  Here  again  we 
have  found  our  fair  Utopia — quite  as  pleasant,  in  my  eyes,- 
at  least,  as  the  one  which  we  claimed  for  our  own  one  year 
ago.  No  intruding  eyes  or  voice  will  disturb  us  to-night. 
Mrs.  Clark,  good  soul !  says  she  wishes  to  doze  over  the 
kitchen  fire  unmolested,  just  because  she  knows  that  I  am 
determined  to  finish  copying  this  manuscript  before  I 
close  my  eyes  in  sleep.  Hark !  how  soothingly  the  winds 
are  swaying  the  leafless  lilac  bush  under  the  window  while 
its  long,  wiry  fingers  are  playing  a  pleasing  accompaniment 
upon  the  panes !  Ah !  there  is  sweet  music  to-night  among 
the  tall  maples  which  surround  '  Pleasant  Cottage ' — sweet 
music  that  has  often  hushed  the  angry  tempest  within  this 
heart,  as  I  sat  by  my  window  and  listened  till  the  stars 
came  out  one  by  one  and  smiled  '  peace '  upon  the  troubled 
waters." 

"  Do  the  winds  never  sigh  plaintively  to  you,  sad,  moan- 
ing, dirge-like  notes  over  the  grave  of  the  departed  past  ?" 
inquired  Flora,  rising  from  the  window  where  she  had  been 
Bitting  and  taking  a  seat  by  the  table. 

"The  soul  tunes  its  own  Eolian  lyre,  my  precious 
one." 

IM 


THE  DREAM  FULFILLED.  199 

"  You  are  right.  There  are  wailing  notes  in  my  heart, 
but  I  will  not  hear  them.  I  wish  I  were  not  so  sad.  Ah ! 
I  was  happy  once,  and  sported  with  the  howling  winds  as 
a  child  gambols  in  its  play." 

"And  you  will  be  happy  again.  You  forget  that  old 
adage,  made  threadbare  every  year,  yet  by  some  mysterious 
power  always  ready  for  use,  as  good  as  if  it  were  new — thai 
*  it  is  always  darkest  just  before  day.' " 

"  Yet  you  will  own  that  the  morning  seldom  indulges  it. 
euch  a  lengthy  prelude,"  answered  Flora,  with  a  smile. 
"  But  I  am  not  miserable,  only  a  little  perplexed  and  over- 
shadowed— lost  in  a  maze  of  mystery  occasionally,  that 
no  doubt  makes  me  appear  sad  while  wandering  in  it.  But 
now  to  your  work,  scribbler,  and  I  to  mine.  Two  different 
ladders-  we  climb,  Lura,  but  Fate  shall  not  separate  us 
when  the  topmost  round  of  each  is  reached." 

"  Hark !  some  one  knocks,"  exclaimed  Lura,  starting  to 
her  feet ;  "  what  a  strange  sound !  It  seems  almost  ghostly 
when  heard  so  seldom." 

"  For  Miss  Hawes,"  said  a  blunt,  coarse  voice,  when  the 
door  was  opened,  and  Lura  returned,  bearing  in  her  hand 
another  large  bouquet  of  flowers. 

"  If  this  isn't  provoking !"  she  exclaimed,  as  she  tossed 
them  into  Flora's  lap.  "  This  is  the  third  floral  gift  which 
I  have  been  obliged  to  pass  over  to  you  from  my  covetous 
nand  in  as  many  weeks.  The  very  next  time  I  meet  that 
dark-eyed  stranger — " 

A  deep  groan  from  Flora  silenced  the  lively  mirth  of  the 
speaker,  and  the  sentence  remained  unfinished.  She  had 
espied  a  folded  paper  among  the  flowers,  as  they  fell  upon 
her  lap,  and  she  was  hurriedly  reading : 

"  Flora,  have  you  heard  from  your  old  friend  Kitty  Lane 
for  the  last  few  days  ?  She  is  dangerously,  hopelessly  ill. 
No  one  is  permitted  to  visit  her  but  the  afflicted  family.  I 
know  thia  will  grieve  you,  but  felt  constrained  to  sead  you 


200  THE  DREAM  FULFILLED. 

this  information  before  the  more  terrible  news  should  reach 
you ;  I  will  send  you  later  intelligence  early  in  the  morn- 
ing. Accompanying  this  sad  news  I  send  you  more  of 
those  heavenly  comforters,  hoping  they  will  now,  as  ever, 
lead  your  mind  to  the  fadeless  bloom  of  paradise  where  no 
sorrow  ever  intrudes.  Good-night. 

"L.  A.  FENN." 

"  Oh,  how  can  I  endure  this!"  exclaimed  the  weeping 
girl,  at  the  same  time  throwing  the  open  letter  to  her  com- 
panion. "  If  I  were  only  positive  that  she  did  not  think  mo 
the  guilty  one  that  circumstances  seem  determined  to  make 
me !  But  she  will  die — oh  yes,  she  will  die ! — and  I  shall 
never  know  that  she  does  not  secretly  despise  me.  And  I 
love  her  so  well.  0  God !  this  is  the  hardest  part  of  my 
great  trial ;"  and  she  raised  her  clasped  hands  imploringly 
upward.  "  This,  this  is  the  chastening  rod  of  iron.  Give 
me  strength,  great  God,  to  bear  it  meekly,  as  I  should !" 

Her  hands  fell,  her  head  drooped  and  rested  upon  the 
table  before  her,  while  her  whole  frame  shook  with  violent 
agitation. 

"He  will  answer  your  prayer,"  said  Lura,  reverently, 
laying  her  hand  upon  the  bowed  head.  "Do  not  weep; 
wait,  '  stand  still  and  behold  the  salvation  of  the  Lord.' 
He  has  not  led  you  into  this  dark  place  to  leave  you  to 
perish.  No,  no,  Flora,  my  mental  faith  seems  greater  than 
your  spiritual.  If  I  were  as  sure  of  a  Father's  love,  it 
appears  to  me  I  could  never  doubt  Him." 

Then,  as  if  fearing  the  effect  of  her  words,  she  threw 
herself  upon  her  knees  beside  her,  clasped  her  hand,  ex- 
claiming, 

"  Flora,  do  I  add  to  your  grief  by  my  thoughtless  philos- 
ophizing? Oh,  believe  me,  I  share  in  your  sorrows  more 
than  I  can  express.  Yet  I  never  was  taught  how  to  apply 
the  balm  of  sympathy,  having  never  been  blessed  until  I 
eaw  you  with  an  application  of  its  healing  power." 


THE  DREAM  FULFILLED.  201 

"I  do  not  doubt  you,  my  precious  friend,"  said  Flor?, 
throwing  her  arms  around  the  suppliant ;  "  I  love  you  too 
well  to  weigh  your  words  in  the  scale  of  appreciation.  I 
thank  you  foi  them.  My  poor  vision  has  a  proneness  to 
wander  about  beneath  the  dark  clouds,  rather  than  to  pene- 
trate their  thick,  sombre  folds.  Dear,  dear  Kitty,"  she  cried, 
with  a  shudder ;  "  where  is  her  faith  ?  Where  will  she  look 
for  consolation  in  this  trying  hour  ?  Ah !  how  well  I  re- 
member our  conversation  the  last  night  I  spent  with  her ! 
I  had  been  kneeling  beside  my  bed  before  retiring;  and 
when  I  arose,  she  whispered,  'The  attitude  of  prayer  is 
very  becoming  to  one  of  your  form  and  nun-like  appear- 
ance, but  how  would  I  look  upon  my  knees  ?'  Perceiving 
her  words  shocked  me,  she  continued,  'But  when  I  get 
older,  I  presume  I  shall  not  mind  those  simple  things ; 
then  I  will  take  you  for  my  pattern,  and  be  very  good.' 
Oh,  that  was  not  quite  five  weeks  ago,  and  where  is  she 
now?" 

"  Perhaps  she  may  recover,"  suggested  Lura,  as  she  saw 
the  tears  again  commence  to  flow. 

"  No.  You  remember  the  dream  I  told  you  about  ?  How 
very  soon  she  forgot  it !  '  Only  an  idle  dream,'  she  would 
say,  when  I  mentioned  it,  'yet  so  pretty,  one  could  almost 
wish  it  true.' " 

The  neglected,  forgotten  flowers  lying  at  her  feet  sent  up 
their  delicious  odors,  and  Flora,  clasping  them  to  her  heart, 
exclaimed,  "  Precious  links,  which  bind  heaven  and  earth 
together  in  an  inseparable  union,  how  I  bless  you !" 

Manuscripts  and  books  had  for  a  while  been  forgotten  in 
•  he  intrusion  of  this  new  grief,  but  Lura  soon  returned  to 
1  er  seat  at  the  table,  and  Flora,  fearing  she  might  disturb 
L-'ir,  soon  arose,  kissed  her  good-night  and  retired  to  her 
orm  room. 

No  eye  but  the  never-slumbering  one  beheld  the  unhappy 
girl,  as  she  tossed  upon  her  bed  in  restless  anxiety  through 
the  long  hours  of  that  never-to-be-forgotten  night ;  no  ear 


202  THE  DREAM  FULFILLED. 

but  the  one  that  never  becomes  weary  heard  her  prayers 
and  listened  to  the  cries  of  that  pleading  heart  for  the 
departing  one. 

Morning  came,  and  her  eyes  were  red  with  weeping,  while 
her  brain  throbbed  wildly  from  her  long,  sleepless  vigil. 
It  was  yet  early,  although  the  frugal  breakfast  had  been 
eaten,  and  Flora  was  busily  engaged  in  her  morning  labors, 
when  a  gentle  knock  was  heard  at  the  door.  With  a  trem- 
bling step  she  hurried  to  open  it,  but  started  back  with 
surprise  when  she  beheld  Mr.  Fenn  standing  before  her 
She  greeted  him,  however,  with  a  pleasant  smile,  and  bade 
him  enter.  As  they  stepped  into  the  little  parlor,  he  took 
her  hand  in  his,  led  her  to  a  chair  and  seated  himself  be- 
side her.  There  was  no  need  that  words  should  convey  the 
sad  tidings  which  his  large,  dark  eyes,  as  they  met  hers, 
spoke ;  she  read  the  fearful  word  "  Death,"  and  her  beating 
heart  had  throbbed  its  low  response. 

After  some  moments'  silence,  Mr.  Fenn  said, 

"  I  could  trust  the  sad  intelligence  to  no  other  lips  than 
mine,  for  with  it  I  bear  the  last  message." 

"  To  me  ?"  asked  Flora,  in  surprise. 

"  Yes,  to  you.  She  loved  you,  and  almost  the  last  words 
she  spoke  were,  '  Tell  her  I  believe  her  as  guiltless  of  the 
crime  with  which  our  family  charged  her  as  I  am  myself. 
Oh  that  I  could  tell  her  so!'  she  exclaimed,  with  a  feeble 
voice ;  '  but  you  will  ?'  I  promised,  but  in  a  few  momenta 
she  added,  c  When  I  get  well,  I  will  not  neglect  it  longer ; 
she  thinks  I  believe  it,  because  I  could  not  endure  the 
thought  of  paining  her  sensitive  heart  by  mentioning  the 
subject.' " 

"  Thank  God  !"*  exclaimed  Flora,  with  intense  emotion  — 
"  thank  God  that  my  prayers  were  not  in  vain." 

Tears  came  fast,  and  she  bowed  her  head  to  conceal  them. 
Tenderly  he  drew  her  toward  him,  placed  her  bowed  head 
upon  his  shoulder,  then  continued : 

"  After  despatching  those  few  lines  to  you  last  evening,  1 


THE  DREAM  FULFILLED.  203 

returned  to  the  sorrow-stricken  family,  who  have  for  the  last 
two  days  been  unwilling  that  I  should  leave  them.  Soon 
after  entering  the  drawing-room,  Mrs.  Lane  came  in,  smiling 
with  renewed  hope,  as  she  informed  me  that  her  darling 
was  much  better.  The  seamstress,  Anna;  had  an  hour  be- 
fore brought  home  the  dress  which  she  was  to  have  worn 
to-night  at  the  quarterly  hop.  When  told  that  it  had  come, 
she  requested  it  to  be  brought  to  her  room.  'It's  very 
pretty,'  she  said,  looking  intently  at  it.  'How  sweetly  we 
should  have  all  looked,  dressed  alike,  in  the  garland  dance ! 
but  I  shall  not  be  there.  Lay  it  away  carefully,'  she  con- 
tinued ;  '  I  shall  yet  wear  it.  The  eleven  will  miss  me,  but 
Flora  must  take  my  place.  I  wonder  why  she  would  not 
join  us?'  'And  then  she  talked  on,'  said  the  unhappy 
mother,  'until  I  could  but  feel  that  my  child,  my  idol, 
would  not  leave  us.  But  I  came  to  see  if  you  were  here,' 
she  continued,  after  a  moment's  pause,  as  if  recollecting 
herself;  '  she  asked  for  you,  and  bade  me  invite  you  to  her 
room  as  soon  as  you  returned.'  I  followed  her.  Beside  the 
bed  sat  the  family  physician,  and  one  look  into  his  troubled 
face  told  me  there  was  no  hope — no  hope.  '  Leave  me,'  she 
baid,  waving  her  hands  to  the  occupants  of  the  room ;  '  I 
would  speak  with  Mr.  Fenn  alone.'  Then,  as  I  sat  beside 
her,  she  gave  me  the  message  for  you  which  I  have  just 
delivered.  At  midnight  she  began  to  fail,  and  just  as  the 
morning  dawned  Kitty  Lane,  the  petted,  the  idolized  child, 
was  no  more.' " 

Flora  raised  her  head,  and  repeated,  "The  petted,  the 
idolized,  is  no  more,  while  I,  the  stranger  and  the  outcast, 
Btill  live.  Oh,  why  could  I  not  have  died  in  her  stead? 
How  much  misery  would  have  been  saved !" 

"  Flora,  I  will  never  forgive  you  if  you  repeat  those  dread- 
ful words."  Then,  speaking  more  tenderly,  he  added,  "  You 
know  not  all  the  misery  such  a  death  would  cause.  But  is 
there  nothing  more  you  would  like  to  know  ?" 

"  Oh  yes j  tell  me  everything.    How  do  they  bear  it?" 


204  THE  DREAM  FULFILLED. 

Just  then  Lura  came  singing  along  the  narrow  passage, 
and  with  a  hurried  step  entered  the  room.  Flora  stam- 
mered out  a  short  introduction,  as  Lura,  blushing  with 
astonishment,  first  saw  them,  then  with  as  rapid  an  apology 
retired. 

"Who  is  that  young  lady?  I  did  not  understand  the 
name,"  asked  Mr.  Fenn. 

"  Did  you  never  see  her  before?" 

"  Never." 

"  Her  name  is  Edwards.  She  is  a  sister  of  the  fair  Lena 
and  the  same  person  of  whom  you  inquired  of  me." 

"Is  it  possible?  I  have  heard  that  she  was  a  fright — 
ugly  to  look  upon ;  while,  on  the  contrary,  I  think  her  quite 
pretty  and  the  possessor  of  a  very  intellectual  face." 

No  doubt  his  thoughts  were  wandering  back  to  the  time 
wKen  he  had  heard  the  "poor  sister"  spoken  of,  for  he 
sat  some  minutes  without  speaking.  Rising  to  depart,  he 
said, 

"The  funeral  is  to  take  place  the  day  after  to-morrow, 
in  St.  John's  Church.  Shall  I  come  for  you  in  my  car- 
riage?" 

"  I  walk  farther  daily  to  my  school,"  she  replied,  with  a 
faint  smile;  but  seeing  his  injured  look,  she  added,  "But 
you  are  very  kind,  and  it  will  give  me  much  pleasure  to 
accept  your  invitation." 

The  burial  of  Kitty  Lane  cast  a  gloom  over  a  large  por- 
tion of  the  city,  and  at  an  early  hour  the  church  was  filled 
to  overflowing  with  sympathizing  friends,  who  had  come  to 
witness  the  last  sad  ceremonies  over  the  departed  dead. 

At  four  o'clock  the  bell  from  the  lofty  tower  commerced 
its  deep,  muffled  tolling,  which  rang  out  upon  the  still 
autumnal  air  with  solemn  distinctness — "gone — gone — 
gone  " —  and  from  the  summit  of  Mount  Ida  there  echoed 
back  the  same  heavy  sepulchral  tone:  "Gone — gone-- 
gone !" 

It  was  a  sad  day,  and  none  in  that  vast  assembly  who  sat 


THE  DREAM  FULFILLED.  20& 

and  listened  to  the  mournful  vibration  of  the  bell,  as  the 
solemn  cortege  advanced,  felt  the  oppressive  gloom  more 
than  Flora.  Slowly  the  approaching  footsteps  are  heard  in 
the  distance ;  nearer  and  nearer  they  come,  a  shadow  falls 
across  the  open  doorway,  and  with  slow,  measured  step 
the  clergyman  in  his  long  black  robe  walks  up  the  aisle, 
followed  by  four  men  bearing  the  richly  ornamented  coffin, 
covered  with  a  heavy  velvet  pall. 

On  one  side  walk  six  young  girls,  dressed  in  pure  white, 
ornamented  with  flowers,  while  upon  the  opposite  are 
only  five  similarly  arrayed. 

"  There !  there  are  the  eleven  who  were  to  miss  her  from 
the  dance,"  thought  Flora,  as  she  looked  at  them  through 
her  blinding  tears ;  "  and  here  they  come,  walking  by  the 
side  of  the  departed,  arrayed  as  for  the  picture  dance." 
Oh  how  her  heart  rejoiced  that  she  was  not  one  of  the 
number ! 

The  services  were  commenced  and  finished  amid  sobs  of 
grief  and  loud  lamentations.  Flora,  however,  sat  like  one 
wrapped  in  a  mysterious  dream,  from  which  she  did  not 
awake  until  she  heard  the  invitation  for  all  who  wished  to 
take  a  farewell  look  upon  the  lifeless  one,  when  with  the 
rest  she  moved  toward  the  coffin,  as  the  orchestra  chimed  a 
low,  solemn  dirge  over  the  dead  lying  there  at  rest. 

Flora  started  back  with  an  exclamation  of  surprise,  as 
her  eye  fell  upon  the  pallid  face.  There  was  the  missing 
one — the  number  was  complete,  twelve,  arrayed  in  robes  of 
white,  with  garlands  twined  about  their  brows  and  flowers 
elaborately  decking  their  persons,  but  one — ah !  one  would 
never  again  join  the  merry  circle,  her  feet  never  more  skip 
in  the  fairy-like  dance.  No,  the  number  was  broken,  the 
eleven  must  go  on  without  her ! 

Flora  turned  away,  pale  and  sick  at  heart,  and  Boon  the 
sad  procession  was  wending  its  way  to  the  distant  cemetery 
of  Mount  Ida,  and  the  echoes  from  its  sides  again  sent  back 
the  refrain,  "  Gone — gone — gone  1" 
II 


206  THE  DREAM  FULFILLED. 

"  Ashes  to  ashes  and  dust  to  dust,"  began  the  reverend 
preacher,  as  the  coffin  was  lowered  into  its  silent  resting- 
place  ;  then,  as  the  prayer  was  ended,  and  before  the  clods 
fell  heavily  down  upon  the  coffin,  the  little  band  in  white 
came  forward,  plucked  the  withering  garlands  from  their 
brows,  and  cast  them  as  a  last  tribute  of  their  love  down  in 
the  cold  dark  chamber  where  she  must  now  sleep  alone. 

"  Oh,  I  cannot  leave  her  here — I  cannot !"  almost  shrieked 
the  despairing  mother,  as  the  relentless  spades  once  more 
commenced  their  unfeeling  work.  "Stop,  heartless,  cruel 
men!  She  is  my  all — my  life!  She  shall  not  remain 
here!"  and  the  broken-hearted  mother  darted  forward, 
as  if  to  arrest  the  labor ;  but  an  arm  was  thrown  about 
her,  and  a  voice  whispered  in  her  ear, 

"  Dear  aunt,  let  us  go  home  and  weep  together  in  her 
room — the  room  which  she  has  made  sacred  to  us  by 
death !" 

"  Oh,  Harry,  Harry !  Yes,  you  loved  her.  My  boy,  let 
us  go  home ;"  and  taking  his  arm,  they  walked  slowly  back 
to  the  carriage. 

Every  eye  was  suffused  with  tears,  beholding  that  proud, 
beautiful  woman  bowed  down  and  almost  crushed  beneath 
the  weight  of  her  mighty  sorrow,  and  every  heart  throbbed 
with  a  sympathy  which  it  could  not  utter. 

No,  there  was  one  whose  eyes  stared  with  a  wild,  be- 
wildered look  upon  the  scene  before  him.  No  tears  dimmed 
his  vision,  no  cries  of  lamentation  escaped  his  lips,  but  hia 
cheeks  were  deathly  pale,  and  his  head  drooped  low  upon 
his  breast.  This  was  the  father,  whose  heart  was  crushed 
and  bleeding  from  the  dreadful  blow  which  his  nature  had 
not  the  power  to  endure. 

"  Come,  uncle,"  said  Harry,  returning  to  the  place  where 
he  stood ;  "  the  carriage  is  waiting  for  you." 

He  cast  one  long,  lingering  look  upon  the  new-filled 
grave,  then,  with  a  shudder,  walked  away. 

"  Oh,  this  is  dreadful !"  exclaimed  Flora,  covering  her 


THE  DREAM  FULFILLED.  207 

face  with  her  hands  and  weeping  bitterly.  "  This  is  indeed 
a  torturing  sight.  How  lonely  that  elegant  home  will  be  I" 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Fenn,  musingly,  "  but  poor  Harry — my 
heart  bleeds  for  him.  He  loved  the  beautiful  girl  more 
than  his  own  life.  Ah,  Flora !  you  do  not  know  what  it  is 
to  have  the  light  of  your  earthly  existence  suddenly  extin- 
guished. God  grant  you  never  may !" 

Flora  started.  His  voice  was  so  full  of  anguish,  of  unut- 
terable woe,  that  she  forgot  her  own  grief,  and  laying  her 
hand  compassionately  upon  his,  looked  the  sympathy 
words  could  not  utter. 

u  Thank  you,  noble  girl,"  he  exclaimed,  raising  it  to  hia 
lips ;  "  it  was  only  a  transient  meteor  which  shot  up  from 
the  past.  See,  I  am  the  same  cold-hearted  bachelor  as 
before." 

Flora  sadly  smiled,  and  they  rode  on. 

"May  I  not  call  when  I  choose?"  asked  Mr.  Fenn,  as  the 
carriage  door  opened  before  the  humble  cottage. 

"  What !  here  ?"  asked  Flora,  pointing  to  the  dilapidated 
building. 

"  Yes,  here,  where  you  have  chosen  your  home."     . 

"  Yes,  as  often  as  you  choose,"  was  the  whispered  reply. 

He  bowed,  and  rode  away. 


CHAPTER   XXVII. 
"THORNY  WAY." 

"pHRISTMAS— a  merry  Christmas !"  fell  from  a  tbou- 
\J  sand  rosy  lips,  and  a  thousand  bounding  hearts  beat 
more  quickly,  as  they  echoed  the  joyous  shout,  and  hailed 
with  mirthful  glee  the  bright,  clear  morning  of  that  festive 
day.  Eyes  danced  and  sparkled  with  a  joy  that  childhood 
only  knows,  while  wondering  over  the  priceless  gems  that 
had  been  secretly  stowed  away  in  numberless  little  stock- 
ings by  the  jolly  saintly  visitor  of  that  eventful  eve,  and 
silvery  laughter  made  sweet  music  in  many  a  merry 
home. 

The  sun  rose  higher  and  brighter,  scattering  over  a  fresh 
white  carpet  of  snow  a  profuse  shower  of  dazzling  rays, 
which  sported  everywhere,  peeping  into  every  blushing 
young  face  that  glided  along  amid  a  chorus  of  noisily 
ringing  bells,  and  the  troop  of  tiny  feet  upon  the  newly- 
swept  pavement.  Life,  active,  busy  life,  was  everywhere — 
in  the  humble  cot,  in  the  lonely  dwelling  of  poverty,  in 
the  bylanes  and  in  the  bustling  thoroughfares,  in  the 
homes  where  plenty  dwelt  and  in  the  palaces  of  affluence 
where  luxury  reigned. 

Lena  Edwards  lay  upon  the  pillow  and  listened ;  but  the 
door  of  her  heart  was  closed,  and  pleasure  could  not  reach 
the  silvery  chords  shut  out  from  its  playful  touch.  A  few 
hours  before,  smiles  had  been  upon  those  lips,  through 
which  issued  melodious  words,  freshly  laden  with  sympa- 
thy and  affection,  but  now  despondency  compressed  them, 
and  the  purest  fountain  of  her  woman's  nature  had  ceased 
to  send  up  its  sparkling  waters. 

208 


"THORNY  WAY."  209 

Even  now,  in  that  little  back  parlor,  stood  the  Christmas 
tree,  upon  whose  branches  hung  many  mementoes  of  family 
love,  which  had  been  the  centre  of  attraction  the  evening 
before  to  a  small  group  of  particular  friends  of  the  fair 
Lena  and  her  fascinating  brother.  Mr.  Fenn  had  not  been 
forgotten,  and,  what  was  quite  as  much  to  the  point,  his 
memory  had  not  on  the  present  occasion  proved  treach- 
erous. 

"One  branch  alone  remains  unadorned,"  said  Lena  to 
her  companion,  as  she  lear.ed  upon  his  arm,  soon  after 
they  entered  the  illuminated  room.  "You  perceive  it  is 
crooked  and  ill-shapen,  but  its  present  loneliness  and 
neglect  throws  a  gloom  over  the  whole  brilliant  picture." 

Her  voice  trembled,  and  her  dove-like  eyes  were  cast 
pensively  down. 

"Ill-Bhapen  as  the  branch  appears  to  be,  you  did  not 
sever  it,"  suggested  Mr.  Fenn,  looking  intently  into  her 
face. 

"Sever  it?"  she  exclaimed,  with  a  sudden  start.  "See 
how  closely  I  nestle  to  it ;"  and  she  placed  her  jeweled 
hand  upon  a  contiguous  well-filled  branch. 

"  Then  permit  me  to  unite  them  inseparably,"  he  replied, 
throwing  over  the  misshapen  bough  a  heavy  chain  of  gold 
wrought  with  the  most  exquisite  workmanship,  and  loop- 
ing it  gracefully  over  the  one  upon  which  her  delicate  hand 
had  rested.  It  was  a  little  act,  for  "  Lena  "  was  inscribed 
upon  the  jeweled  clasp,  and  as  she  lay  upon  her  pillow,  and 
heard  the  sounds  of  mirth  and  rejoicing  which  came  up 
from  the  crowded  streets,  she  held  the  beautiful  gift  firmly 
in  her  hand  and  felt,  "  It  is  mine."  Yet  the  retrospect  of 
the  evening  troubled  her,  she  knew  not  why.  Perhaps  it 
was  her  jealous  love  intimating,  "  All  is  not  right." 

A  happier  waking  for  years  old  Mrs.  Clark  had  not 
known  than  on  this  Christmas  morn.  "  A  merry  Christ- 
mas!" "A  merry  Christmas!"  shouted  gleeful  voices,  as 
the  door  of  her  room  was  thrown  open  at  an  early  hour  to 


210  "THORNY  WAT." 

admit  the  light  from  the  burning  candle  standing  upon  the 
kitchen  table. 

"  Threescore  more  of  them  to  you !"  answered  the  low, 
Bweet  voice  from  beneath  the  curtain.  A  kiss  from  each 
upon  her  pale,  wrinkled  face,  that  was  slowly  turned  to 
them,  caused  her  to  wish  a  long,  happy  life  to  her  dear 
children  and  unnumbered  blessings  to  deck  their  path- 
way. 

"Now  you  must  get  up  immediately,"  said  Flora. 
"Breakfast  is  ready,  and  we  are  waiting  impatiently  to 
adorn  you  for  our  noonday  feast;"  and  the  two  girls 
lifted  her  from  the  bed  and  placed  her  in  an  easy-chair, 
while  she  laughed  and  scolded  in  the  same  breath,  de- 
claring there  never  were  such  girls — she  didn't  see  how  she 
could  ever  have  lived  there  all  alone,  waiting  for  the  weeks 
to  roll  round  and  bring  her  truant  brother,  "  who  would 
keep  going  down  in  that  dirty  boat,  when  there  was  no  sort 
of  need  of  it,  not  a  bit !" 

"  Where  on  airth  did  you  get  these  ?"  she  asked,  noticing 
for  the  first  time  that  she  was  being  robed  in  something 
altogether  new. 

"  Wait  until  we  brush  the  silvery  locks  and  don  the  cap  ; 
then  we  will  let  you  wonder,"  said  Lura,  laughing,  as  she 
proceeded  with  her  work. 

"Well,  I  never!"  and  the  submissive  old  lady  settled 
down  with  a  contented  look. 

"  Lura  did  it  all,"  said  Flora,  as  the  two  girls  after  break- 
fast led  the  captive  off  to  the  little  parlor,  where  a  bright, 
warm  fire  greeted  her. 

There  was  sadness  upon  Flora's  face  as  she  named  the 
donor,  but  her  heart  whispered  that  "  she  had  done  what 
she  could,"  and  therefore  she  was  content. 

A  short  time  after,  a  sleigh  drawn  by  two  spirited  horses 
stopped  before  the  humble  home,  and  Anna  Graves,  the 
pale  seamstress,  alighted,  together  with  her  mother,  who 
was  assisted  by  the  daughter  and  the  driver,  and  in  a  few 


•'THORNY  WAT."  211 

moments  a  cheerful  group  were  cosily  chatting  in  the  anti« 
quated  parlor  which  Edgar  Edwards  had  scarcely  deigned 
to  enter. 

"  You  are  so  much  better,"  said  Flora,  as  she  drew  Mrs. 
Graves  close  to  the  fire. 

"  Yes ;  God  is  very  good.  The  cold  weather,  contrary  to 
ordinary  expectation,  seems  to  bring  me  new  life.  Thia 
ride  has  made  me  feel  young  again.  I  wanted  to  see  that 
young  man  to  bless  him  for  his  kindness,  but  you  will  tell 
him  how  much  I  thank  him  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  will  tell  him,"  replied  Flora,  blushing  slightly, 
"  but  Mr.  Fenn  has  a  noble  heart,  and  enjoys  doing  a  kind- 
ness more  than  one  can  receiving  it." 

All,  however,  had  not  yet  arrived.  A  timid  knock  was 
heard  upon  the  door,  which  Flora  opened,  and  little  Clara 
Saunders  bounded  in,  threw  her  arms  about  Flora's  neck 
and  covered  her  face  with  kisses. 

"  She  said  I  might  stay  all,  day,"  were  her  first  eager 
words,  when  she  found  breath  to  speak ;  "she  was  so  kind, 
after  all,  wasn't  she  ?" 

"  Very  kind,"  answered  Flora,  looking  into  that  young 
face,  where  all  was  not  as  sunny  as  early  morn  should  be. 
But  it  was  "  a  merry  Christmas  "  to  all  who  ate  and  drank 
beneath  that  lowly  roof;  and  when  the  beautiful  sleigh 
once  more  stopped  before  the  weatherbeaten  gate  to  carry 
the  visitors  to  their  home,  Mrs.  Graves'  voice  trembled  as 
ehe  said,  "Good-bye" — trembled  because  she  had  been 
speaking  of  partings,  and  she  saw  a  tear  glisten  in  her 
daughter's  calm  blue  eye. 

The  mirth  and  joy  that  accompany  this  annual  holiday 
entered  not  into  the  stately  mansion  of  Mrs.  Lane,  as  it  was 
wont  to  do,  filling  the  spacious  rooms  with  circling  eddies 
of  silvery  laughter,  and  the  trip  of  agile  feet  upon  its  velvet 
carpets,  for  the  shadow  of  death  still  lingered  upon  the 
threshold,  and  cast  a  pall  of  gloom  over  all  its  interior 
splendor.  To  be  sure,  there  were  footsteps  upon  the 


212  "THORNY  WAY" 

broad,  winding  stairways  and  through  the  long  halls,  but 
they  were  measured  and  slow,  such  as  bear  along  the  weary 
and  heavy-laden.  Grim  visages  from  the  scenes  of  long-ago 
looked  soberly  down  from  their  lofty  positions  upon  the 
walls  into  the  empty  rooms,  with  their  eyes  fixed  wonder- 
ingly  upon  the  richly-covered  furniture  reflected  in  gor- 
geous mirrors,  and  their  gaze  was  cold,  cheerless  and  for- 
bidding. 

A  stately  lady  in  long,  flowing  black  robes  entered  the 
neglected,  dreary  rooms  and  proceeded  with  languid  step  to 
the  window  that  opened  upon  the  busy,  bustling  street.  A 
shiver  passed  through  her  frame,  as  she  beheld  the  fleecy 
snow  and  the  icy  pendants  which  the  frost  had  hung  upon 
the  leafless  branches  of  the  stiff  old  trees  opposite.  Her 
face  was  very  pale — white  as  the  one  over  which  winter 
had  thrown  his  chilling  mantle,  silently  sleeping  in  her 
lonely  bed  on  the  summit  of  yonder  hill. 

"  Ah !  we  were  to  have  been  in  New  York  to-day,"  sighed 
the  unhappy  lady,  still  gazing  listlessly  out,  but  looking 
above  the  happy  faces  that  were  hurrying  to  and  fro,  mind- 
less of  the  great  sorrow  that  hovered  so  near  them.  "  Yes, 
to-day  three  months  ago,  how  we  showered  the  purple  fruit 
of  anticipation  into  these  now  miserable  hours !  How  much 
worse — infinitely  worse — than  the  apples  of  Sodom,  do  they 
prove  to  us  in  this  wretched  present !  Poor  Harry  !  It  was 
cruel  to  forbid  his  loving  her,  while  I  now  almost  rejoice  at 
his  sufferings.  We  grieve  together.  Poor  boy !"  and  tears 
came  into  her  large  blue  eyes,  and  the  scene  before  her  be- 
came enveloped  in  mist. 

Mr.  Lane  sat  alone  in  his  library.  Life  had  lost  its 
charms  for  the  bereaved  father,  and  business  cares,  with 
the  excitement  of  loss  and  gain,  had  ceased  to  interest  him. 
All  day  long  he  sat,  moody  and  alone,  neither  giving  nor 
receiving  consolation. 

Harry  Walton  had  been  recalled  from  New  York.  He 
alone  had  power  to  hide  his  great  grief  and  step  forth  into 


"THORNY  WAY"  213 

the  world,  yet  his  merry  laugh  was  hushed,  and  the  spark- 
ling light  of  his  dark  eyes  had  become  dim.  At  this  hour 
he  too  was  alone  in  an  upper  chamber,  seated  before  a  table 
which  he  had  drawn  near  the  fire,  upon  which  lay  a  num- 
ber of  open  letters.  He  had  been  reading  them,  and  one 
was  still  in  his  hands. 

"  What  a  strange  dream !"  he  murmured.  "  How  I 
laughed  at  her  in  my  answer!  Dear,  dear  Kitty!  My 
heart  is  full  of  sweet  memories  of  thee,  and  with  these  will 
I  ever  cover  the  cruel  work  of  the  destroyer's  hand.  Yes, 
you  shall  ever  be  mine — my  idol  of  the  past,  always  en- 
shrined in  the  present  by  the  power  of  my  unutterable 
love !"  A  groan  from  his  stricken  heart,  the  firm  pressure 
of  his  clenched  hand  upon  his  burning  brow,  told  plainly 
the  agony  of  that  grief  which  lay  concealed  beneath  the 
disguise  of  external  calmness  when  the  world  looked  on, 
but  which  was  never  hidden  from  himself. 

The  day,  which  had  risen  in  splendor,  wrapped  in  glitter- 
ing robes  of  morning  light,  disappeared,  mantled  in  a  dark, 
portentous  cloud,  and  the  wind  came  moaning  up  from 
behind  the  eastern  hills,  and  sighed  all  night  through  the 
deserted  streets  and  narrow  alleys  where  the  child  of  pov- 
erty lay  shivering  in  his  rags,  his  hand  grasping  tightly 
Borne  meagre  gift  which  had  been  tossed  at  him,  and  he 
dreamed  of  such  joys,  haply,  as  the  giver  never  knew. 
Life,  life  1  Strange  links  are  bound  together  in  it,  but  the 
hand  of  wisdom  unites  them. 

For  nearly  a  week  the  rain  came  pattering  down  upon 
the  retreating  snow  and  ice,  and  the  grand  old  Hudson 
heaved  his  throbbing  heart  with  a  new  life,  throwing  of! 
his  icy  coverlet,  and  appeared  once  more,  aroused  from  his 
short  sleep,  mighty  in  his  power.  Men  shrugged  their 
shoulders  and  looked  prophetic,  while  they  barricaded  the 
warehouses  upon  the  banks  of  the  river  and  strengthened 
the  fastenings  of  the  restless  sloops  which  now  crowded 
around  the  piers.  A  great  freshet  was  expected;  but  the 


214  "THORNY  WAT." 

clouds  kindly  withheld  their  moisture,  the  winds  ceased 
their  strange,  mysterious  whisperings  in  the  tree-tops,  and 
the  new  year  burst  upon  the  gladdened  city  in  a  flood  of 
golden  light 

Mr.  Fenn  called  upon  Flora  early  in  the  morning  merely 
to  bring  a  new  book — "  the  last  publication,  which  he  was 
sure  would  prove  a  rich  treat." 

"I  have  beard  so  much  of  it,"  he  said,  "that  yesterday 
morning  I  purchased  it,  and  confess  to  the  weakness  of 
having  taken  half  of  the  night  to  finish  its  perusal.  The 
writer  has  marked  talent,  and  her  imagery  is  fascinating 
beyond  expression." 

Flora,  thanking  him,  rushed  up  to  Lura's  room  to  show 
her  the  wonderful  book.  "  If  Mr.  Fenn  bestows  such  praise, 
you  need  not  fear  for  its  triumphant  march.  Oh,  Lura, 
Lura!" 

"Fury,  you  mean,"  said  Lura,  catching  the  contagious 
rejoicing  of  her  companion.  "I  wonder  if  any  one  will 
recognize  my  poor  heroine  ?" 

The  good  sloop  Lady  Ann  had  been  quietly  resting  in  her 
enug  winter-quarters  for  the  past  few  weeks,  but  now  she 
tossed  and  bounded  upon  the  heaving  waters,  as  if  she 
had  been  quite  impatient  of  her  short  imprisonment,  and 
longed  to  spread  her  wings  and  fly  forth  once  more  into 
life,  active,  busy  life.  But  her  jolly  old  captain  and  owner, 
who  had  just  returned  from  a  trip  about  the  country,  de- 
voted to  the  settlement  of  the  odds  and  ends  of  his  exten- 
sive business,  was  not  yet  ready;  and  while  his  pet  was 
restlessly  tossing  her  long  arms  into  the  air,  jostling  the 
neighboring  craft  like  an  impertinent  miss  elbowing  her 
way  through  a  crowd,  he  was  sitting  by  the  kitchen  fire 
cosily  chatting  with  his  sister. 

"  See,  Uncle  Billy,"  said  Flora,  as  the  two  girls  entered 
the  room,  while  she  held  up  the  new  book — "  see  my  Neir 
Year's  gift, '  Thorny  Way,'  by  nobody  knows  who,  yet  pro- 
nounced by  the  most  acute  judges  one  of  the  moat  entertain- 


"THORNY  WAY"  215 

ing  and  fascinating  works  that  has  been  published  for  a  long 
time;"  and  her  beautiful  eyes  glistened  and  her  cheeks  glowed 
with  a  delight  she  had  not  known  for  many  weeks. 

"  Ha,  ha,  ha  I"  laughed  the  merry  old  man,  at  the  same 
time  elevating  his  heavy,  shaggy  eyebrows,  which  in  re- 
pose almost  buried  the  small,  gray  eyes  that  twinkled 
beneath  them,  while  his  large,  brawny  hand  came  emphati- 
cally down  upon  his  knee  with  a  report  sufficiently  loud  to 
awaken  the  most  sluggish  sympathy. 

"  Didn't  I  know  it  ?  up  with  the  top-sail.  Fine  coasting 
now  for  the  little  craft,"  he  exclaimed,  with  the  heartiest 
good-humor.  "  Ha,  ha !  Any  man  who  will  patronize  the 
captain  of  the  Lady  Ann  in  preference  to  any  other  skipper 
will  be  true  to  his  word — no  fear  of  it ;  and  he  told  me  he 
would  warrant  for  it  a  good  sale,  which  I  knew  all  the  time 
meant  a  capital  thing.  '  Just  what  the  public  wants,'  and 
so  forth !  Ha,  ha,  my  fine  birds !  Billy  Price  can  see  into 
a  millstone  as  far  as  it  is  picked,  any  day ;"  and  his  deep- 
chested  laugh  awakened  the  echoes  that  always  slept  in  the 
dingy  old  garret  when  he  was  not  beneath  the  roof.  All 
joined  in  the  lively  chorus,  for  all  were  equally  filled  with 
rejoicing. 

To  this  day  had  they  long  looked  forward  with  the 
keenest  anxiety.  Hope  and  fear  had  been  alternating  in 
quick  succession  in  each  heart  since  Lura's  manuscript,  the 
work  of  many  months,  had  been  placed  in  the  hands  of 
the  publishers.  She  had  seen  its  publication  announced 
in  several  journals,  but  her  heart  often  sank  within  her,  as 
she  thought  of  the  unsparing  criticism  which  it  might  re- 
ceive ;  and  now  to  know  that  it  had  been  praised  by  the 
press,  what  was  better  than  all  for  her,  by  their  mutual 
friend,  Mr.  Fenn,  perfected  her  vague  anticipations  with  the 
most  pleasing  realities. 

"I  say,  chick,  what  are  you  going  to  do  with  your 
money?"  continued  Uncle  Billy,  placing  his  hand  affec- 
tionately upon  Lura's  head.  "No  doubt  there  will  be  a 


216  "THORNY  WAY." 

heap  of  it."  This  he  said,  as  the  sonorous  laugh  died  away 
and  the  echoes  were  once  more  silent. 

"Going  to  school,"  answered  Lura,  clapping  her  hands 
with  glee,  as  the  bright  prospect  rose  up  before  her — 
"  going  to  school ;  and  perhaps  I  shall  write  another  book 
some  day." 

"Well,  now,  child!  Gone  crazy  so  quick?  And  per- 
haps I  am  the  cause  of  it,"  said  Uncle  Billy,  with  feigned 
grief  sitting  ludicrously  upon  his  countenance.  "  There's 
no  more  need  of  your  going  to  school  than  there  is  of  my 
becoming  second  mate  of  the  Lady  Ann.  You  may  laugh  " — 
and  he  pointed  his  finger  at  Lura,  while  the  shaggy  eye- 
brows rose  up  like  a  thick  cloud  to  let  the  stars  peep  out, — 
"but  you  know  more  now  than  half  of  the  fine  ladies  that 
have  been  clean  through  a  dozen  schools." 

Not  wishing  to  contest  the  point,  Lura  thanked  him  for 
his  flattering  opinion  of  her  acquirements,  and  the  brother 
and  sister  were  left  to  chat  undisturbed. 

Toward  evening,  Anna  Graves  called — "just  for  one  mo- 
ment," as  she  said ;  but  the  church  bells  began  their  even- 
ing chorus  of  invitation  before  she  was  aware  that  the  lamps 
had  been  lighted  in  the  streets,  and  that  night  had  already 
drawn  her  thick  curtains  around  her.  She  arose  in  haste  to 
depart ;  but  after  much  persuasion  and  a  promise  from  Uncle 
Billy  that  he  would  see  that  she  reached  home  safely,  she 
consented  to  accompany  the  little  party  to  church  down 
town,  where  a  marriage  ceremony  was  to  be  performed. 

The  church  was  crowded  when  they  entered  with  the 
gay,  the  thoughtless  and  the  curious — the  lady  of  fashion, 
the  man  of  business  and  the  daily  laborer,  while  here  and 
there,  scattered  among  the  motley  group,  was  a  humble, 
silent  worshiper,  from  whose  trusting  heart  ever  arose  up- 
ward to  the  throne  of  purity  and  love  the  sweet  incense  of 
acceptable  praise. 

Then  came  the  low,  deep  tones  of  the  organ,  reverberating 
through  the  consecrated  temple,  now  rising  and  soaring  ic 


"THORNY  WAT."  217 

lofty  swell,  then  sinking  in  a  mild,  sweet  cadence  and  melt- 
ing away  as  the  music  of  far-off  waters  which  the  passing 
winds  gather  up  and  bring  back  to  us  with  redoubled  sweet- 
ness, filling  the  ears  and  elevating  the  thoughts  until  the 
whole  being  seems  enveloped  and  baptized  in  an  overhang- 
ing cloud  of  liquid  sounds. 

Flora  felt  the  influence  of  the  melody  with  which  she 
was  surrounded,  and  her  head  bowed  low  in  adoration  of 
Him  who  "  fills  the  air  with  His  praises,  that  the  heart  of 
man  may  rejoice  in  Him."  • 

The  prelude  died  away,  and  the  voice  of  prayer  arose 
upon  the  surrounding  stillness.  Fervent  and  more  fervent 
became  the  appeals  of  the  humble  pleader,  who  stood  with 
hands  upraised  to  Him  who  says,  "  Ask,  and  ye  shall  re- 
ceive." Suddenly  a  loud  cry  is  heard.  "  Fire !  fire !  fire !" 
comes  with  awful  distinctness  through  the  closed  door, 
rings  through  the  long  aisles,  recalling  devotional  thoughts 
from  their  heavenward  flight,  and  filling  every  listener  with 
an  apprehensive  dread  of  evil. 

"  Fire  I  fire !  fire !"  Louder  and  nearer  and  clearer  it 
comes.  Hurrying  footsteps  rapidly  approach,  then  die 
away  in  the  distance.  Bells  from  every  church-tower  and 
spire  commence  their  clamorous  alarums,  and  the  whole 
congregation  arise  from  their  seats  and  rapidly  rush  out 
from  the  church. 

"Let  us  go,"  whispered  Anna,  as  she  perceived  that 
her  companions  made  no  movement  to  depart.  "  Oh,  let 
us  go  I" 

"Why,  dear  Anna,  what  makes  you  so  pale?"  eagerly 
inquired  the  girls  almost  in  the  same  breath,  "  and  you  are 
trembling  violently.  What  frightens  you  so  much  ?" 

"  Let  us  go,"  she  pleaded,  while  the  tears  started  to  her 
eyes ;  "  I  cannot  endure  this  agonizing  suspense.  Oh,  how  I 
repent  unnecessarily  leaving  my  poor  dear  mother  so  long !" 

They  had  reached  the  door,  and  the  noise  and  confusion 
from  without  broke  in  upon  them.  The  tumult  of  hurry- 

19 


218  "THORNY  WAY" 

ing  feet,  the  loud  shouting  of  an  excited  multitude,  the 
distant  rumbling  of  the  engines,  together  with  the  clangor 
of  numberless  bells,  mingled  with  the  murmurs  of  inquiry 
and  alarm  which  fell  incoherently  from  the  lips  of  passers 
by.  filled  the  air  with  discord  and  the  heart  with  unutter- 
able fear. 

"What  is  it?  What  is  it?"  was  heard  upon  every  side. 
No  flames  were  visible,  and  "  false  alarm  "  was  sounded  in 
the  ear,  yet  the  crowd  hurried  on,  all  tending  in  one  direc- 
tion, and  thither  our  little  party  was  borne. 

" Can  you  tell  me,  sir,  where  the  fire  is?"  inquired  Uncle 
Billy,  grasping  the  arm  of  a  stalwart  man  who  was  hurrying 
past,  screaming  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  "  Fire !  fire !  fire  I" 

"There  ain't  no  fire,"  he  answered,  endeavoring  to  re- 
lease himself,  "  but  Ida  hill  has  tumbled  down  and  buried 
half  the  city." 

"  Let  us  sit  down  here,"  said  Flora,  as  she  perceived  that 
Anna's  arm,  which  was  placed  within  hers,  trembled  more 
violently,  but  before  the  stranger  had  finished  his  reply,  she 
had  darted  away,  and  was  lost  in  the  crowd. 

"  What  shall  we  do  ?"  exclaimed  Flora,  while  Lura  only 
clasped  her  hand  in  mute  surprise. 

"You  must  take  care  of  yourselves,  girls,"  said  Uncle 
Billy,  turning  to  them ;  "  my  broad,  rough  hands  are  wanted, 
if  his  words  are  true,  and  you  had  better  find  Anna,  if 
possible,  and  take  her  home  with  you." 

But  in  vain.  Hours  came  and  went,  and  hundreds  of 
persons  continued  unceasingly  their  labor  of  love  and 
sympathy.  Fourteen  houses  had  been  thrown  down,  buried 
or  carried  along  by  the  descending  earth  and  trees  from  the 
hill  above  them,  while  the  moans  of  the  injured  and  dying 
were  distinctly  heard  in  many  places,  and  a  few  were  borne 
away  to  safe  retreats  still  alive. 

Where  was  Anna  ?  The  crowd  was  dense  and  the  night 
dark,  save  where  the  torches  illuminated  the  scene  of  toil, 
and  the  poor  girl  could  not  be  found. 


"THORNY  WAY"  21 S 

"Here,  here!  more  hands  to  this  beam  I"  shouted  a 
voice ;  and  the  loose  earth  rattled,  the  timbers  creaked — a 
crash,  and  the  intruding  beam  was  dislodged. 

A  shriek,  heartrending  in  its  agony,  pierced  the  air,  and 
Anna  leaped  forward  to  clasp  the  form  of  her  dear  mother 
in  her  arms.  Spades  and  iron  bars  stopped  a  while  in  their 
active  work,  while  many  a  toil-stained  hand  was  raised  to 
wipe  away  a  tear,  as  the  two  forms,  both  cold  and  insensi- 
ble to  present  grief,  were  borne  away.  A  Bible  lay  open 
near  the  little  table  which  was  crushed  beneath  the  mother, 
and  a  little  farther  on,  bowed  over  a  chair,  was  another 
form,  dead.  The  faithful  servant  who  had  clung  for  many 
years  through  sorrow  and  adversity  to  the  kind  mistress  of 
former  days  had  joined  her  in  her  journey  to  that  celestial 
abode  where  there  is  no  more  fear  of  separation. 

Happy  soul !  The  answering  angel  who  bore  upward  on 
his  ethereal  wings  the  sweet  odors  of  prayer  from  the  hum- 
ble and  contrite  heart  proclaimed  also  to  the  blood-washed 
throng  in  the  courts  above,  "  They  come,  they  come  I" 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 
THE  MASSIVE  FOB-CHAIN. 

THE  frail  forget-me-not  that  blooms  alone  down  in  the 
grassy  dell  ofttimes  droops  its  fragile  head  when  the 
wind  and  the  rain  beat  too  heavily  upon  it ;  but  when  the 
storm  is  past,  and  the  genial  sunshine  comes  and  kissea 
away  the  heavy  teardrops  that  weigh  it  down,  invigorating 
with  warm,  soft  breath  its  little  life,  the  drooping  head  is 
raised,  and  the  tiny  flower  becomes  once  more  the  loveliest 
in  nature's  collection. 

Thus  did  Anna,  after  a  few  weeks  of  dejection,  find 
among  the  dregs  of  sorrow's  most  bitter  cup,  a  soothing 
draught  which  the  angelic  hand  of  Hope  had  added,  that 
calmed  and  tranquilized  her  afflicted  heart;  and  rising 
from  her  grief,  she  walked  once  more  in  the  world,  the  pale 
young  seamstress  of  former  days. 

The  spring  had  come  and  gone.  The  tall  lilac  bush  had 
budded  and  bloomed,  filling  the  air  with  its  aromatic 
sweets,  and  the  little  vase  upon  the  parlor  table  had  been 
filled  with  its  bright,  cheering  donations,  but  now  its 
blossoms  had  withered,  fragrance  had  departed,  and  the 
hot  rays  of  a  summer's  sun  rested  upon  its  dusty  green 
leaves.  Twilight  was  approaching,  and  Lura,  robed  in 
plain  white,  was  standing  in  the  door,  looking  wistfully 
down  the  street. 

"I  wish  she  would  come,"  she  exclaimed,  half  impa- 
tiently. "  The  biscuits  will  certainly  be  spoiled." 

Footsteps  fell  upon  her  ear  from  a  quarter  opposite  to 
that  in  which  she  was  looking,  and  her  eyes  suddenly 
turned,  to  behold  a  gentleman  and  lady  slowly  approach- 
220 


THE  MASSIVE  FOB-CHAIN.  221 

ing.  Her  first  glance  met  the  steady  gaze  of  her  fair  sister, 
who  was  leaning  listlessly  upon  the  arm  of  her  exquisite 
brother. 

"  That's  the  house,"  remarked  Edgar,  pointing  his  tapei 
fingers  toward  the  small  low  windows  of  the  parlor,  which 
were  open,  and  whose  snow-white  curtains  were  drawn 
aside  to  admit  the  cool  evening  air.  Without  appearing  to 
notice  the  figure  standing  near  them,  he  continued : 

"  I  wish  you  would  peep  into  that  stifling  enclosure. 
You  would  never  sing  again  to  your  adorer  Mr.  Fenn  that 
detestahle  song,  '  Love  in  a  Cottage.'  The  romance  would 
disappear  before  such  a  reality." 

Lura  did  not  fly  away,  as  her  heart's  first  promptinga 
appeared  to  suggest,  but  her  lips  became  compressed  and 
her  eyes  suddenly  flashed  with  the  indignation  which  these 
words  aroused.  A  low,  derisive  laugh  came  back  to  her,  as 
the  two  passed  on ;  and  turning,  with  increased  anger  she 
re-entered  the  little  parlor. 

"Brother!  sister!"  she  said,  between  her  clenched  teeth. 
"  Yes,  I  solemnly  swear  it  in  the  presence  of  that  agonized 
Redeemer  who  looks  so  compassionately  down  upon  me ; 
there  shall  be  a  day,  if  life  and  intellect  are  spared  me, 
when  their  disdain  shall  be  turned  into  obsequiousness; 
and  may  some  greater  power  than  I  now  possess  be  given 
me  to  restrain  my  resentment  from  returning  to  them  the 
scorn  they  so  richly  deserve !" 

The  gate  was  hurriedly  opened  and  closed.  Thrusting 
back  into  its  secret  cell  the  evil  spirit  of  hatred  which  had 
risen  up  unbidden,  she  hurried  to  the  door  and  greeted 
Flora,  whom  she  had  been  impatiently  awaiting,  with  a 
pleasant  smile. 

"  You  naughty  girl  1  You  have  spoiled  my  biscuits  and 
my  temper  by  your  prolonged  stay." 

"Is  it  so  late?  I  ought  certainly  to  be  very  sorry,  but  I 
could  not  leave  '  Beethoven '  a  moment  sooner.  Your  de- 
licious suppers  cannot  be  compared  with  his  exquisite 


222  THE  MASSIVE  FOB-CHAIN. 

melody.  I  wish  the  autumn  term  would  come,  so  that  I 
could  sing  and  play  for  you." 

"  Vain  girl !"  replied  Lura,  throwing  her  arms  affection- 
ately about  her ;  "  you  think  to  fill  me  with  envy.  Ha, 
ha !  But  you  have  done  that  scores  of  times  already,  with- 
out any  musical  accompaniment." 

"  Really,  you  have  grown  wild  to-day  on  that '  Discarded 
Daughter.'  I  must  take  you  to  dear  Mrs.  Clark  for  a  rep- 
rimand. How  is  she  to-night?" 

"  Very  feeble ;  I  fear  we  shall  be  motherless  again  before 
many  months." 

And  the  two  girls  entered  the  little  dining-room,  where 
the  table  was  neatly  spread  for  tea. 

"  I  wish  Anna  was  here,"  said  the  kind  old  lady,  as  she 
was  drawn  to  the  table ;  "  I  like  to  see  her  quiet  face  be- 
tween yours,  my  children." 

"  I  presume  she  will  not  be  home  until  late,"  said  Flora, 
"  for  Mrs.  Lane  always  keeps  her  a  while  after  tea  to  talk 
with  her." 

The  meal,  as  was  universally  the  case,  passed  off  pleas- 
antly and  cheerfully.  Mrs.  Clark,  although  aged  and 
feeble,  did  not  dampen  their  joyousness  by  complaining 
words  or  desponding  looks.  Calm  and  resigned  she  had 
ever  been  since  the  hour  when  she  was  informed  that  her 
tottering  steps  were  tending  slowly  but  surely  to  the  silent 
chamber  of  rest,  and  a  happy  smile  often  played  upon  her 
wasted  features  when  speaking  of  the  kindness  her  Heav- 
enly Father  had  thrown  about  her  in  sending  such  com- 
forters to  cheer  the  last  days  of  her  lonely  pilgrimage. 

"  Now  for  a  walk,"  said  Lura,  as  she  refolded  her  checked 
apron,  after  the  last  polished  dish  had  been  restored  to  its 
place  in  the  corner  cupboard;  "I  haven't  had  sufficient 
extrcise  to-day  to  keep  my  digestive  organs  in  a  healthful 
state  of  activity.  Will  you,  Miss  Flora,  be  my  companion 
in  the  promenade  ?" 

Flora  consented,  and  they  left  the  house  with  joy  and 


THE  MASSIVE  FOB-CHAIN.  223 

laughter  upon  their  lips,  concealing  the  rankling  grief 
from  every  beholder  which  nevertheless  preyed  upon  each 
heart. 

"There's  Uncle  Billy,"  exclaimed  Flora,  with  delight, 
clapping  her  hands,  as  she  saw  the  fat,  jolly  waterman  ap- 
proaching them  from  the  principal  street,  which  ran  along 
by  the  river. 

u  True,"  said  Lura,  "  and  I  really  feel  the  mirthful  influ- 
ence of  his  merry  eyes  even  this  far  off.  Don't  you  ?"  and 
Lura  laughed  heartily,  as  he  reached  them  and  clasped  a 
little  hand  in  each  of  his  broad  palms. 

"  Ha,  ha,  my  little  shipmates !  Come  down  on  purpose 
to  meet  me  ?  and  I'll  pay  you  for  it  sure  as  the  Lady  Ann  is 
queen  of  all  craft." 

"Well  not  dispute  you  with  such  a  glowing  promise  to 
prevent,"  laughed  Flora,  "  for  pay,  Uncle  Billy,  is  no  idle 
threat,  as  my  memory  can  well  testify." 

"  Want  something  good,  eh  ?  Well,  if  you  can't  wait  till 
nine  o'clock,  Lady  Ann  will  give  it  to  you  by  calling  upon 
her." 

"  What  is  it?    Where  is  it?"  both  asked,  eagerly. 

"  A  basket  sits  on  my  chest  in  the  cabin ;"  and  with  a 
chorus  of  merry  laughter,  they  departed,  Uncle  Billy  at- 
tending to  the  transaction  of  some  business,  and  the  girls 
hastening  to  the  anticipated  feast  of  "something  good," 
which  their  kind  friend  never  failed  to  bring  on  his  return 
from  New  York. 

It  was  almost  dark  down  by  the  dingy  old  warehouses  on 
the  wharf,  when  they  reached  it,  and  both  for  a  moment 
shrank  back  and  would  have  returned  but  for  a  dark  form 
that  was  standing  just  behind  them. 

"  Let  us  hurry  on,"  whispered  Flora ;  "  he  will  be  gone 
when  we  return;"  and  hastening  forward,  they  stood  in  a 
few  moments  on  the  deck  of  the  Lady  Ann.  The  cabin  was 
goon  reached,  and  a  basket  of  bananas  rewarded  their  search. 
Neither  spoke,  as  they  emerged  from  the  thick  darkness 


224  THE  MASSIVE  FOB-CHAIN. 

below,  for  the  shadows  were  deepening  everywhere,  and 
the  delicacy  of  their  situation  burst  fully  upon  them. 

"  This  is  too  bad,"  said  Lura ;  "  I  didn't  think  night  was 
BO  near  us,  or  I  shouldn't  have  ventured  in  here.  There's 
that  same  dark  figure  standing  near  that  pile  of  lumber;" 
and  they  drew  close  to  each  other  and  hurried  past. 

"  He  passed  us  while  we  were  talking  to  Uncle  Billy ;  I 
know  him  by  his  massive  fob-chain/'  said  Flora,  looking 
timidly  behind  her. 

"  Hush !  he  is  following  us.     Let  us  run." 

"  No,  no,"  said  Flora,  assuming  a  courage  which  she  did 
not  possess ;  "if  he  is  the  one  you  speak  of  that  passed  us, 
he  means  no  harm.  There  is  no  evil  in  his  large,  dark  eye. 
He  sees  the  exposure  into  which  our  imprudence  has  led 
us,  and  no  doubt  has  determined  to  protect  us.  I  feel  quite 
secure  while  he  continues  near  us." 

"  You  are  a  strange  girl ;  you  believe  every  one  is  good 
until  his  treachery  has  pierced  your  heart." 

"I  am  glad  that  I  do;  it  would  be  a  sad  fate  to  be 
doomed  to  hunt  out  improprieties  in  every  one  who  crosses 
our  path.  But  look !  He  still  follows  us,  although  we  are 
out  of  danger  here  in  the  public  street  in  the  full  glare  of 
gaslight." 

Both  were  silent,  as  they  hurried  with  rapid  steps  toward 
their  home.  Perhaps  both  were  thinking  of  the  dark-eyed 
stranger  of  whom  they  had  been  talking,  and  the  echo  of 
whose  steps  Flora  listened  to  catch,  as  they  turned  the 
corner  of  each  street  before  reaching  their  destination.  Her 
eyes  had  met  his,  as  he  passed  them,  and  there  was  some- 
thing in  that  look  which  seemed  to  hold  communion  with 
her  heart.  There  was  sorrow  there,  and  the  spirit  of  sad- 
ness within  her  arose  in  answering  sympathy.  There  were 
lines  upon  his  handsome  face  that  had  not  been  wrought 
by  the  finger  of  Time,  and  silver  threads  in  his  jetty  locks 
which  years  had  not  interwoven.  Of  this  she  was  quite 
confident. 


THE  MASSIVE  FOB-CHAIN.  225 

The  little  gate  was  at  last  reached ;  and  as  Lura  entered, 
she  turned  to  look  for  the  dark,  mysterious  stranger  who 
had  followed  them. 

"Ah !  you  needn't  dodge  into  the  shadow  of  that  awning," 
she  murmured,  as  she  espied  him.  "  We  are  safe  now,  and 
it  will  be  a  long  time  before  we  shall  need  you  again  as  an 
escort  on  such  a  perilous  route." 

"  I  hope  Anna  returned  long  ago,"  said  Flora,  without 
Boeming  to  notice  her  companion's  remark.  "  Our  stay  has 
been  prolonged  to  an  unpardonable  length." 

A  few  days  after  these  events  a  messenger  was  sent  from 
Mrs.  Willard  to  the  school-room,  requesting  an  interview 
with  Flora.  With  much  apprehension  and  a  ner_vous  flut- 
tering of  the  heart,  she  arose  to  obey  the  summons. 

"  What  can  be  the  cause  of  this  unusual  request  ?"  she 
asked  herself,  as  she  descended  to  the  parlor.  Thoughts  of 
other  days  came  rushing  into  her  mind.  Had  Mrs.  Willard 
heard  from  Edgarton  ?  Perhaps  he  was  coming,  or  it  might 
be  he  had  written  to  inquire  if  she  were  still  there.  The 
idea  had  often  occurred  to  her  that  possibly  her  letter  had 
never  reached  him,  or  that  it  had  been  lost  in  the  course  of 
his  journey,  and  for  the  first  time  for  many  months  there 
arose  a  longing  desire  to  hear  from  him.  "  No,  no,"  she 
thought,  as  she  lingered  at  the  parlor  door  for  a  moment, 
that  she  might  collect  herself;  "  he  has  discarded  me,  and 
why  should  I  bestow  a  wish  upon  him  ?" 

A  step  along  the  hall  aroused  her ;  and  tapping  lightly 
upon  the  door,  she  was  admitted  by  the  kind,  matronly 
lady  herself.  She  felt  the  pressure  of  the  soft  hand  which 
clasped  her  own,  but  it  did  not  still  the  anxious  throbbingg 
of  her  heart  or  remove  the  burning  glow  from  her  cheeks. 
The  mild,  gentle  voice  of  Mrs.  Willard  drove  back  at  length 
the  hot  tears  which  were  fast  gushing  up  from  her  agitated 
heart ;  and  when  she  said,  "  A  friend  of  yours  called  upon 
me  this  morning  to  inquire  into  the  progress  of  your  studies, 
and  I  find,  upon  investigation,  that  you  excel  in  nearly  all 


226  THE  MASSIVE  FOB-CHAIN. 

you  have  undertaken,"  her  anxiety  vanished,  and  a  pleas- 
urable emotion  filled  her  heart. 

"  Will  you  tell  me  who  called  ?"  she  timidly  asked. 

"  I  did  not  ask  his  name,  as  I  supposed  him  to  be  a  near 
relative  or  one  whom  you  would  readily  know  if  I  mentioned 
the  fact  of  his  having  been  here." 

"  I  have  no  gentleman  friend  that  can  possibly  feel  a  suffi- 
cient interest  in  me  to  induce  him  to  make  inquiries  as  to 
my  progress ;  or  if  I  have,  I  am  not  aware  of  the  fact,"  said 
Flora,  with  much  agitation. 

"  Very  strange  1"  said  Mrs.  Willard.  "  Had  he  been  your 
father,  he  could  not  have  manifested  more  interest.  He 
wished  that  I  should  urge  you  to  come  to  the  seminary  to 
board,  and  that  I  would  exercise  a  guardianship  over  you 
BO  far  as  to  provide  for  your  wants,  and  gave  me  a  check  of 
two  hundred  dollars  for  the  purpose,  saying  that  my  purse 
should  be  replenished  as  often  as  need  required.  Can  you 
think  of  no  one  from  whom  you  might  expect  such  gener- 
osity?" 

"  No  one,  I  can  assure  you,  unless  it  be — " 

'*  Mr.  Edgarton,  I  suppose  you  mean  ?"  said  the  lady, 
coming  to  her  aid. 

Flora  nodded  assent. 

"  It  was  not  he — quite  his  opposite  in  personal  appear- 
ance, having  very  black  hair  and  eyes." 

"Does  he  wear  a  massive  fob-chain?"  inquired  Flora, 
starting  to  her  feet. 

"  I  think  he  does.    You  have  seen  him,  then  ?" 

"  I  have  met  a  gentleman  corresponding  to  your  descrip- 
tion, but  only  in  the  street.  I  do  not  know  him,  and  can- 
not accept  his  proffered  generosity.  No,  no ;  he  is  nothing 
to  me.  I  have  avowed  my  purpose  of  making  my  way  in- 
dependently through  this  trying  ordeal,  or  at  least  of  < Con- 
tracting no  debt  which  I  shall  not  be  permitted  to  discharge.' 

Tears  rushed  to  her  eyes;  and  bowing  her  head,  she 
wept  freely. 


THE  MASSIVE  FOB-CHAIN.  227 

"I  know  not  how  to  advise  you,"  said  Mrs.  Willard, 
laying  her  hand  gently  upon  her  curls.  "  Had  I  suspected 
that  this  gentleman  was  a  stranger  to  you,  I  should  have 
acted  very  differently.  I  will  think  more  of  this,  my  child ; 
and  if  you  wish,  at  some  future  time  I  will  give  you  my 
viows  upon  the  subject.  In  the  mean  time,  take  this  check, 

0  hich  upon  examination  I  find  bears  the  name  of  Dupont. 

1  have  no  means  of  returning  it,  as  he  did  not  give  me  his 
address." 

Flora  took  the  folded  paper,  and  was  about  to  leave  the 
room,  when  Mrs.  Willard  abruptly  asked, 

"  How  long  have  you  been  in  the  school  ?" 

"  Nearly  two  years." 

"Yes,  I  was  thinking  the  second  year  ended  with  this 
term.  Before  you  finished  your  first  your  proposition  was 
made  to  become  a  teacher  pupil,  but  at  its  close  money  was 
forwarded  by  Mr.  Edgarton  which  covered  the  whole  ex- 
pense. Last  week  I  received  a  letter  from  him  inquiring  if 
you  were  still  here,  and  requesting  me  to  forward  your 
school-bill,  vvhich  was  done." 

Flora  sank  upon  a  chair  near  her,  but  did  not  speak. 

"  I  should  have  consulted  you,  but  I  had  entirely  for- 
gotten your  proposition.  I  see  no  reason,  however,  as  you 
came  here  with  the  understanding  that  you  were  to  accept 
his  generosity,  why  you  should  not  receive  it.  If  there  be 
any  good  reason,  will  you  not  confide  in  me  ?" 

"There  is  none,  perhaps,"  answered  Flora,  hesitatingly, 
"  unless  it  be  the  spirit  of  independence  which  has  taken 
possession  of  me." 

"  It  is  a  commendable  spirit,  my  child,  if  it  does  not 
ti  ample  upon  our  own  peace  and  the  happiness  of  others. 
You  are  peculiarly  situated;  few  orphans  like  yourself  have 
friendship  and  kindness  to  throw  away.  Consult  your  own 
heart  and  the  unfailing  law  of  right,  and  hesitate  not  to 
walk  where  virtue  and  duty  shall  point  the  way." 

Flora  thanked  her  and  left  the  room. 


228  THE  MASSIVE  FOB-CHAIN. 

It  was  a  tedious  walk  home  that  hot,  sultry  afternoon ; 
and  when  Mr.  Fenn  met  her,  and  invited  her  to  take  a  seat 
in  his  carriage  and  accompany  him  in  a  drive  into  the 
country,  she  did  not  hesitate. 

There  was  something  strange  in  Flora's  demeanor.  When 
we  are  defeated  in  our  pet  plans  or  disappointed  in  the 
accomplishment  of  some  great  achievement  which  we  have 
proposed  to  ourselves,  we  are  sad  and  dispirited.  Floia, 
however,  was  not.  There  were,  indeed,  traces  of  tears  upon 
her  cheeks,  but  happiness  was  beaming  through  them. 
There  was  a  depression  in  her  heart,  but  joy  came  dancing 
in  and  out,  collecting  sweet  memories  from  the  past  with 
which  to  bury  it. 

"  What  a  pleasant  ride  we  have  had !"  said  Mr.  Fenn,  as 
they  drove  back.  "I  wish  you  were  always  happy,  and 
that  I  could  always  remain  in  your  presence,  for  your  joy 
imparts  to  me  the  keenest  zest  of  life." 

Flora  looked  at  him  in  surprise,  but  his  hand  was  out- 
stretched to  assist  her  in  alighting,  and  his  face  wore  its 
usual  expression  of  brotherly  kindness;  that  was  all.  A 
cheerful  "  good-night,"  a  wave  of  the  hand,  and  the  carriage 
drove  away. 


CHAPTER    XXIX. 
A  BURDEN  REMOVED. 

ALOUD  knocking  at  the  street  door  startled  the  inmates 
of  the  little  kitchen  where  Lura  and  Anna,  who  was 
now  one  with  them,  were  busily  engaged  in  preparing 
breakfast,  and  caused  Flora  to  suspend  her  dusting  and 
arranging  above-stairs  that  she  might  discover  what  the 
unusual  noise  could  mean. 

"  Who  on  airth  can  that  be  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Clark,  raising 
her  head,  which  had  for  many  minutes  been  resting  upon 
her  hand. 

"  No  sheriff,  I  hope,"  replied  Lura,  setting  the  well-filled 
coffee-pot  upon  the  table,  "but  I'll  soon  ascertain;"  and 
throwing  aside  her  apron,  she  hastened  to  obey  the  per- 
emptory summons. 

She  was  met  at  the  door  by  a  teamster  with  a  broad,  red 
face,  with  his  blue  frock,  the  badge  of  his  calling,  hanging 
loosely  over  his  shoulders,  and  his  long  boots,  which  had 
the  unfailing  propensity  of  daily  swallowing  the  tattered 
extremities  of  his  outer  garments.  After  emptying  his 
capacious  mouth  of  a  large  quantity  of  filthy,  dark-colored 
liquid,  he  said,  gruffly, 

"  A  box  for  220." 

Lura's  quick  eye  had  discovered  the  long  box  upon  tlie 
walk  outside  of  the  gate,  and  also  that  there  were  more  men 
standing  beside  it.  One  of  them,  better  dressed  than  his 
comrades,  approached,  as  she  appeared ;  and  before  time 
was  given  her  to  express  the  opinion  that  they  were  labor- 
ing under  some  mistake,  he  had  reached  the  door. 

SO  229 


230  A  BURDEN  REMOVED. 

"  Here's  a  letter  for  Miss  Flora  Hawes,"  he  said,  as  he 
handed  it  to  Lura. 

Flora,  hearing  the  words,  hurried  down  stairs,  broke  the 
§eal  and  read : 

i 

"  FLORA  :  Do  not  scruple  to  accept  the  box  which  accom- 
panies this.  The  bearer  has  received  orders  to  set  the  in- 
strument up  and  leave  it  in  prime  order.  There  is  a  fate 
before  you ;  hesitate  not  to  use  every  means  in  your  power 
to  prepare  yourself  for  it.  Before  long  you  shall  know  more ; 
until  then  it  is  decreed  that  we  remain  strangers." 

Flora,  full  of  wonder  and  amazement,  had  seated  herself 
upon  the  step  on  which  she  had  been  standing,  quite  for- 
getful that  other  eyes  than  Lura's  were  fastened  upon  her. 

"  Shall  we  bring  it  in  through  the  door  ?"  inquired  the 
officious  bearer  of  the  letter,  looking  curiously  about. 

"Yes,"  answered  Flora,  aroused  by  his  words;  "it's  a 
email  place  in  which  to  stow  so  large  a  piece  of  furniture, 
but  we'll  try." 

Lura  returned  to  the  kitchen  with  Flora,  where  a  council 
was  held  over  the  mysterious  note,  and  many  were  the  com- 
ments which  were  made  upon  the  inexplicable  present. 

"  Edgarton  has  sent  it,"  said  Lura,  emphatically ;  "  how 
can  you  doubt  it  ?" 

Flora  shook  her  head  negatively. 

"This  letter  was  written  in  New  York,  while  he  is  in 
England.  Besides,  how  should  he,  or  any  one  else,  pre- 
sume to  know  anything  of  my  future  or  the  fates  whi<  i 
are  to  govern  me  ?" 

"  Young  gentlemen  like  Sir  Charles  Edgarton  often  dare 
to  tamper  with  prophecy  in  the  case  of  a  beautiful  youi.g 
lady's  future,"  replied  Lura,  laughing. 

Flora  blushed  very  deeply,  and  would  have  felt  a  little 
angry,  perhaps,  if  the  words  had  been  spoken  by  any  one 
else. 


A  BURDEN  REMOVED.  231 

"  Do  tell  me,  Anna,"  said  Mrs.  Clark,  who  had  hitherto 
been  forgotten  in  the  excitement,  "  what  is  going  on ;  what 
are  they  bringing  into  the  house  ?" 

"  A  piano,  and  Flora  cannot  conceive  who  has  sent  it." 

"  What  1  A  grand  piano  in  my  poor  old  house  ?  Well,  if 
that  don't  beat  all !  What  will  be  the  next  great  blessing 
I  shall  receive  before  I  die?"  and  the  dear  old  creature 
settled  down  in  her  chair  with  a  look  of  unalloyed  satisfac- 
tion beaming  from  every  wrinkle  in  her  aged  face. 

It  required  the  expenditure  of  many  impatient  words 
and  gestures,  repeated  trials  of  "  this  way  "  and  "  that  way," 
before  the  elegant  piano  could  become  an  honored  occupant 
of  the  little,  old-fashioned  parlor,  of  which  it  threatened  at 
first  to  claim  a  full  monopoly.  But  when  at  last  the  door 
closed  upon  the  bustling  man  in  black  who  had  been  com- 
missioned to  leave  the  instrument  "  in  prime  order,"  it  did 
not  refuse  to  send  forth  its  sweetest  tones  at  Flora's  touch 
and  to  startle  with  its  exquisite  melody  the  slumbering 
echoes  in  the  old  garret  into  a  new  life. 

"  Flora,  sing  that  strange,  wild  song  of  the  past  that  came 
bubbling  up  through  your  heart,  and  sank  into  mine  with 
its  exhilarating  power,  stirring  up  every  latent  energy  and 
rending  in  twain  the  thick  veil  of  doubt  and  uncertainty 
that  shut  in  my  soul  from  every  future  hope  and  prospect 
that  afternoon  when  we  sat  alone  two  years  ago  in  the 
quiet  woods  upon  Mount  Ida?"  Lura  asked,  throwing  her 
arms  about  Flora's  neck. 

"I  do  all  that?"  asked  Flora,  looking  into  the  glowing 
face  beside  her. 

"Yes,  all  that,  and  more  than  that.  Now  for  th» 
song." 

Flora  Hawes,  according  to  the  teacher's  report,  had  ex- 
celled particularly  in  two  branches,  music  and  painting. 
To  her  skill  in  the  former  many  could  testify  who  would 
stop  before  the  small,  weatherbeaten  house  that  had  pre- 
viously escaped  their  notice,  and  listen  to  the  sweet  strain! 


£32  A  BURDEN  REMOVED. 

which  seemed  to  issue  from  beneath  every  time-stained 
weatherboard  that  shut  the  accomplished  performer  from 
their  longing  gaze. 

The  wonder  occasioned  by  the  strange  letter  and  the 
elegant  present  wore  away  after  some  weeks  had  passed, 
and  nothing  more  was  heard  from  the  writer,  yet  Flora 
could  not  deny  that  a  light  had  shot  athwart  her  future 
which  all  her  philosophical  reasonings  failed  to  darken. 

"It  could  not  have  been  Edgarton,"  she  would  often 
repeat  to  herself,  "but  there  was  a  resemblance  in  the  hand- 
writing. However,  it  was  not  he — it  could  not  be." 

Yet  how  very  kind  he  was,  not  to  forget  her,  as  she  be- 
lieved he  had  done !  Still,  how  passing  strange  it  was  that 
he  had  not  written,  as  he  had  so  often  promised  to  do ! 
She  would  not  think  of  him ;  she  would  wait  patiently  for 
time  to  unravel  the  mystery  thrown  about  her  destiny. 

Even  Mr.  Fenn  could  not  assist  her,  who  came  now  very 
often  to  hear  her  sing  and  have  a  chat  with  the  young 
ladies;  and  so  all  conversation  upon  the  affair  had  died 
away,  and  the  three  pursued  the  quiet  tenor  of  their  ways 
as  though  no  unexpected  interruption  had  rippled  the 
swift  current  of  the  stream  of  Time.  Thus  the  waves  roll 
on,  each  swallowing  its  predecessor  or  covering  it  with  for- 
getfulness. 

Flora  had  procured  from  some  of  her  slight  acquaint- 
ances a  few  pupils,  to  whom  she  gave  music  lessons  on 
Wednesday  and  Saturday  afternoons,  in  which  she  had 
met  with  great  success.  She  was,  however,  astonished  to 
find  a  richly-dressed  young  ladj*.  awaiting  her  return  from 
school  one  evening,  who  wished  to  enroll  herself  upon  the 
list  of  her  pupils. 

"  You  must  certainly  excuse  me,"  replied  Flora,  blushing 
deeply.  "I  have  attempted  nothing  more  than  to  teach 
the  rudiments  of  a  science  in  which  I  am  as  yet  but  a 
learner." 

"  I  do  not  care  for  the  '  do,  *e,  mi.'  and  flats  ac.i  sharps,  an 


A  BURDEN  REMOVED.  233 

I  knotr  enough  of  those  now ;  I  only  want  to  learn  to  sing  as 
you  do,"  replied  the  young  lady,  "  and  you  must  teach  me. 
Perhaps  you  do  r  ot  remember  me,"  she  continued,  seeing 
that  Flora  hesitated,  "  but  I  have  not  forgotten  the  young 
girl  who  applied  to  my  elegant  mamma  for  a  menial  situa- 
tion, and  was  not  only  refused,  but  insulted." 

Flora  started,  and  her  face  and  neck  became  suffused 
with  a  crimson  hue,  as  the  hateful  retrospect  arose  before 
her. 

"  It  was  my  sister  that  joined  with  her,  not  I.  If  you 
knew  how  I  scolded  them,  you  would  not  be  angry  with 
me,  but  would  give  me  lessons,  that  I  may  have  an  oppor- 
tunity of  repairing  the  injury  which  their  selfishness  in- 
flicted, and  for  which  they  have  been  doubly  paid ;"  and 
she  laughed  a  low  rippling  laugh  to  which  it  would  have 
been  refreshing  to  listen  had  it  not  issued  from  lips  man- 
tled with  irony  and  scorn. 

"Oh,  say  yes,"  she  continued,  laying  her  gloved  hand 
upon  Flora's.  "  We  shall  love  each  other,  and  be  very 
happy  together,  I  know !" 

Flora  could  not  resist  her  pleading  looks  and  words ;  and 
it  was  arranged  that,  as  her  afternoons  were  occupied,  the 
new  pupil  should  come  two  mornings  each  week  to  receive 
the  desired  instruction. 

At  this  accession  to  her  labors  Mr.  Fenn  was  decidedly 
indignant: 

"  Your  morning  walks  to  be  given  up,  every  half-holiday 
of  pleasure  relinquished,  and  for  no  other  reason  than  that 
she  was  determined  that  it  should  be  so." 

" How  can  I  avoid  it?"  asked  Flora.  "Would  you  have 
me  place  myself  in  the  power  of  a  stranger  by  accepting 
donations  from  his  hidden  hand  ?  No ;  my  hours  of  nightly 
rest  shall  be  surrendered  before  such  a  calamity  shall  befall 
me." 

She  had  risen  to  her  feet  while  speaking,  her  graceful 
form  dilating,  her  dark  eyes  flashing  with  excitement,  and 
20* 


234  A  BURDEN  REMCVED. 

her  cheeks  glowing  with  the  indignation  which  her  own 
thoughts  aroused. 

"  Flora,  you  misunderstand  me,  but  I  forgive  you,"  he 
replied,  looking  calmly  at  her ;  "  you  have  no  reason  to  sus- 
pect me  of  the  cruelty  you  have  insinuated.  I  would  have 
you  free  as  the  summer  bird  until  all  my  arts  of  fascination 
are  exhausted ;  then,  if  you  will  not  sing  in  my  bower,  1 
will  bless  you  for  these  blissful  days,  which  memory  will 
ever  carry  along  with  me,  fresh  and  peaceful,  because  you 
made  them  so." 

She  grew  calm,  as  she  looked  at  his  passionless  face  and 
listened  to  his  quiet  words,  so  full  of  tenderness  and  love. 
They  were  alone;  but  before  Flora  could  find  words  to 
reply,  Lura  entered. 

A  glance  from  her  keen,  penetrating  eye  told  her  that 
words  of  love  had  been  spoken — of  that  love  which  she  had 
long  suspected.  The  smouldering  blaze  flashed  for  a  mo- 
ment from  her  keen  orbs,  and  from  that  hour  the  slumber- 
ing demon  in  her  heart  was  awakened,  and  a  long  time 
elapsed  before  it  could  be  composed. 

Flora  soon  missed  the  good-night  kiss  and  the  fond  sis- 
terly embrace  of  her  hitherto  dearest  friend,  and  her  heart 
grew  sick. 

"  What  have  I  done  ?"  she  would  ask  herself  over  and 
over  again,  as  she  lay  restlessly  upon  her  pillow,  "  that  she 
should  withdraw  her  love  from  me?"  But  the  more  she 
wrestled  with  her  secret  grief,  deeper  and  deeper  rankled 
the  piercing  barb  in  her  sensitive  heart. 

Again  the  autumn  leaves  began  to  rustle  upon  the 
ground  and  the  cheerful  flowers  to  droop  their  heads  and 
wither. 

"So  depart  my  joys,"  sighed  Flora,  as  she  sat  by  the 
window,  looking  out  for  Anna,  whose  presence  had  become 
doubly  dear  to  her  of  late,  for  in  her  mild  face  she  ever 
fcund  an  answering  look  of  sympathy  and  affection. 

The  twilight  was  deepening,  but  she  caught  the  first 


A  BUEDEN  REMOVED.  235 

glimpse  of  her  friend,  as  she  entered  the  street  tw: 
squares  off. 

"  How  rapidly  she  walks !"  thought  Flora,  as  she  watchec 
ner  progress ;  "  there  must  be  some  strong  joy  in  her  heart 
Would  that  she  could  impart  some  of  it  to  me !  Ah !  whj 
should  I  become  so  dispirited  at  each  new  sorrow  ?  It  is 
not  that  my  heart  is  so  susceptible  of  grief,  but  because  each 
new  pang  increases  the  ponderous  load  which  no  counter- 
acting pleasure  has  as  yet  had  the  power  to  remove." 

Thus  soliloquizing,  she  had  forgotten  her  friend,  and  was 
not  aware  of  her  approach  until  she  had  reached  the 
gate. 

"  Flora,  good  news,"  she  exclaimed,  holding  up  a  letter. 

"  I  wish  you  joy,"  said  Flora,  faintly  smiling. 

"  Not  for  me,  but  for  you,  dear  Flora ;"  and  she  placed 
the  letter  in  her  hand. 

"  From  Mrs.  Lane.  Oh,  if  it  were  only — "  But  the  words 
died  upon  her  lips  and  the  shadow  disappeared  from  her 
face,  as  she  read : 

"  DARLING  FLORA  :  How  can  I  ask  you  to  forgive,  when  I 
have  grieved  you  so  much  ?  But  I  was  not  willful  in  my 
suspicions.  Gladly  would  I  have  believed  you  innocent,  as 
my  poor  child  believed  you.  Oh,  Flora,  my  heart  is  broken ; 
come  to  me,  speak  one  word  of  pardon,  and  it  will  be  a  balm 
io  the  cankering  wound  that  is  eating  away  my  life.  Anna 
will  tell  you  all;  my  heart  and  eyes  fail  me.  Once  more 
O>mc  to  your  afflicted  friend, 

"C.  C.  LANE.' 

"Anna,  what  does  this  mean?  Speak  quickly!  Does 
Bhe  know  me  to  be  innocent?"  Flora  asked,  in  great 
agitation. 

" Yes;  the  brooch  is  found.  A  trunk  was  unpacked 
yesterday  which  had  not  been  opened  since  some  time 


236  A  BURDEN  REMOVED. 

before  Kitty's  death,  and  it  was  found  attached  to  the 
fringe  of  her  crape  shawl,"  replied  Anna,  hurriedly. 

Flora  did  not  speak,  but  her  head  dropped  upon  the 
window-sill  at  which  she  had  been  sitting,  and  she  wept. 
Lost  to  all  sensation  but  the  one  great  thankfulness  which 
filled  her  heart,  she  did  not  hear  a  footstep  until  a  hand 
was  laid  gently  upon  her  head. 

It  was  Mr.  Fenn  who  had  approached  her,  and  his  hand 
had  soothingly  caressed  her. 

"Always  near  when  the  heart  calls  you,"  she  said, 
faintly. 

"  I  would  be  if  my  listening  spirit  could  always  hear  the 
summons.  But  what  grieves  you  ?" 

"  Nothing.  I  weep  because  I  am  so  happy.  The  dead 
body  of  suspected  guilt  has  been  removed,  and  Mrs.  Lane 
asks  for  pardon  for  the  dreadful  accusation*." 

"  You  will  grant  it  ?"  he  asked,  doubtingly. 

"  Of  course ;  she  shall  have  it  freely,  and  never  know 
the  agony  which  I  have  suffered  for  nearly  a  year." 

"Noble  girl!  You  are  right,  I  suppose.  Does  Miss 
Goodale  come  for  her  lesson  to-morrow  morning?"  he 
asked,  when  about  turning  away. 

"  No ;  she  was  here  this  morning." 

"  Then  I  will  call  in  my  carriage  at  an  early  hour,  and 
give  you  a  short  ride." 

Before  she  could  thank  him  he  was  in  the  street. 

"I  must  go  and  tell  Lura,"  she  soliloquized,  as  his  steps 
died  away  in  the  distance.  "She  certainly  will  rejoice 
with  me ;"  and  full  of  bright  anticipations  she  proceeded 
to  the  room  where  she  knew  Lura  was  sitting. 

"May  I  come  in?"  she  asked,  tapping  lightly  upon  the 
door. 

"I  thought  I  heard  Mr.  Fenn's  voice  below;  how  is  it 
you  are  here  ?"  was  her  only  reply  as  Flora  entered. 

"He  only  stopped  a  moment,  and  I  have  some  good 


A  BURDEN  REMOVED.  237 

news  I  want  to  tell  you ;"  and  she  threw  her  armi  lovingly 
about  Lura's  neck. 

"  You  need  not  tell  me,"  said  Lura,  passionately,  throw- 
ing her  arms  aside.  "  I  know  it  all  now.  You  have  prom- 
ised at  last  to  condescend  to  become  the  wife  of  Lewis  Ftnn. 
Amazing  benignity  I  Unhappy  fate !"  cried  the  embittered 
girl,  with  great  sarcasm. 

Flora  was  astonished.  The  whole  truth  flashed  upon 
her,  and  she  wondered  that  she  had  been  so  blind. 

"  Yes,  she  loves  him ;"  and  without  speaking,  Flora  re- 
tired to  her  own  room,  locking  the  door  after  her. 

"  She  hates  me  now,"  cried  Lura,  as  she  heard  the  key 
turn  in  the  lock — "yes,  she  hates  me  because  of  my  in- 
justice, and  despises  me  for  my  unsought  love.  Fool  that 
I  am  for  throwing  away  the  only  true  love  that  was  ever 
bestowed  upon  me !  Fool — yes,  fool  that  I  am !  Yet  it  is 
done.  She  knows  my  secret,  and  turns  from  me  as  from  an 
unworthy  object."  While  she  spoke  the  fire  that  was  in  her 
eye  died  away,  and  she  fell  upon  her  knees. 

Severe  was  the  struggle  with  the  fiend  in  her  heart,  and 
the  moon  had  long  looked  in  upon  her  bowed  figure  before 
she  became  sufficiently  composed  to  retire  to  her  bed. 
Anna,  whose  turn  it  was  to  sleep  by  the  bed  of  the  aged 
invalid,  knew  nothing  of  the  two  sad  hearts  above  her  that 
throbbed  and  throbbed  all  night  beneath  their  heavy  burden 
of  grief.  But  when  morning  dawned,  and  Lura,  earlier  than 
her  wont,  descended  to  the  breakfast-room,  there  were  traces 
of  agitation  still  lingering  upon  her  face,  and  Flora,  too, 
though  endeavoring  to  smile,  did  not  wear  her  usual  cheer- 
fulness. 

At  the  table  Anna  rehearsed  more  in  detail  the  incidental 
connected  with  the  finding  of  the  long-lost  brooch,  and 
asked  of  Flora  if  she  should  carry  word  of  her  intended 
call.  Lura  looked  at  Flora  for  a  moment,  then  burst  into 
tears  and  left  the  table. 

"What  can  be  the  matter  with  our  unhappy  Lura?'' 


238  A  BURDEN  REMOVED. 

asked  Mrs.  Clark,  in  great  surprise;  "I  never  saw  her 
shedding  tears  before.  Poor  child!  I  have  noticed  for 
some  time  that  she  was  not  as  cheerful  as  usual.  I  hope 
she  has  no  new  trouble ;"  and  the  poor  old  lady  sank  lower 
into  her  cushioned  chair  and  wiped  the  perspiration  from 
her  wrinkled  brow. 

A  carriage  stopping  at  the  gate  ended  the  conversation, 
and  Flora  was  soon  whirling  away  at  a  rapid  speed  over  the 
streets  and  along  the  noble  Hudson,  far  from  the  noise  and 
tumult  of  the  busy  city,  where  the  birds  greeted  them  with 
pleasant  minstrelsy,  and  somewhat  of  the  fragrance  of 
summer  still  lingered  in  the  fields  and  filled  the  cool  air 
with  sweets.  It  was  a  lovely  drive,  and  Flora  felt  cheered 
and  refreshed,  as  they  drew  near  the  seminary,  where  she 
was  to  alight. 

"  Do  you  know,"  asked  Mr.  Fenn,  "  that  the  Edwards  are 
to  spend  the  winter  in  England  ?" 

"  Certainly  not ;  neither  has  Lura  been  apprised  of  it." 

"  I  suspected  as  much.  Lena  informed  me  last  evening. 
They  are  to  sail  at  an  early  day  from  New  York,  and  it  is 
quite  uncertain  when  they  return." 

"  I  am  very  sorry  for  Lura,"  said  Flora,  almost  tearfully ; 
"  she  has  often  expressed  a  desire  to  visit  her  native  land, 
and  now  the  family  would  leave  her  without  one  parting 
regret  that  she  is  not  to  accompany  them." 

It  was  even  a  severer  trial  to  the  unhappy  girl  than 
Flora  had  anticipated.  For  weeks  she  grieved,  refusing  to 
be  comforted,  and  allowing  no  one  to  approach  her  upon 
the  subject,  except  Mrs.  Clark. 

"  I  know  very  well  that  it  is  no  more  than  I  should  have 
expected,"  she  said,  one  day,  as  they  were  conversing  upon 
the  subject;  "and  since,  as  they  would  tell  me,  I  sun- 
dered with  my  own  hands  the  silken  cords  of  family  affec- 
tion, I  shall  not  be  so  foolish  as  to  weep  because  I  am  left 
standing  outside  of  the  protecting  fold.  But,  my  dear 
friend,  it  is  not  because  they  are  to  enjoy  a  long-looked-for 


A  BURDEN  REMOVED,  239 

and  coveted  pleasure  which  is  to  be  denied  me  that  I 
mourn.  Oh  no!  The  cold  hand  of  destiny  early  chilled 
the  gushing  spring  of  my  existence,  and  spread  out  my 
life  before  me  a  barren  plain,  and  bade  me  traverse  it. 
Once  I  imagined  that  my  feet  had  escaped  the  dread  waste, 
and  that  a  path  henceforth  stretched  pleasantly  through  my 
\  uture  upon  which  those  sunbeams  that  gladden  the  life 
of  others  would  shimmer  cheerfully.  But  to  find  myself 
driven  back  by  uncontrollable  circumstances  among  the 
icebergs  where  years  ago  a  terrible  shipwreck  had  wellnigh 
befallen  me — this  has  driven  me  to  despair,  hopeless,  in- 
terminable despair !" 

"Child,  child,  what  are  you  saying?  Don't  rave  about 
destiny  and  despair.  You  know  nothing  of  either.  Life 
has  not  been  all  sunshine  with  you,  nor  all  darkness.  Look 
at  me.  See  my  form  sinking,  sinking.  In  a  few  more  days 
these  withered  hands,  brown  with  toil,  will  be  cold  and  stiff; 
these  eyes  that  have  beheld  much  and  have  often  wept 
bitter  tears  of  disappointment  and  grief  will  be  closed ;  yet 
from  the  very  verge  of  life  on  which  I  now  stand  my  soul 
rejoices  in  the  God  who  created  it,  knowing,  as  I  do,  that 
'  he  doeth  all  things  well.'  There  was  a  purpose  in  your 
early  sorrows.  The  gold  does  not  appear  until  it  first  be 
burned,  nor  even  men  unless  the  dross  be  taken  away  by 
the  fire.  Lura,  I  have  known  you  from  a  little  child,  and 
I  have  watched  the  spirit  of  hatred  and  revenge  looking 
out  from  your  eyes ;  it  is  not  yet  conquered.  No,  no ;  it  is 
not  conquered ;"  and  tears  rolled  down  the  furrowed  cheeka 
and  fell  upon  the  bowed  head  of  the  listener. 

Both  remained  silent  for  some  time,  when  Lura  arose, 
kissed  the  pale,  wet  cheek,  as  she  whispered, 

"Will  you  help  me  wage  the  war  of  extermination? 
Pray  for  me,  for  God  refuses  to  hear  my  prayer." 

"  Not  so,  not  so,  my  child.  His  ear  is  ever  open,  and  hi* 
aand  ever  ready  to  help.  Believe  it,  Lura,  and  pray." 


CHAPTER   XXX. 
THE  PARDONED  HERBERT. 

WHO  can  solve  the  problem  of  life  or  deny  the  po*ver 
that  fills  up  the  checkered  woof  of  our  probationary 
existence? 

Anna  Graves  was  walking  leisurely  homeward  from  her 
daily  toil,  the  seared  autumnal  leaves  falling  thickly  about 
her,  as  she  strolled  carelessly  on  beneath  the  huge  old  button- 
wood  trees  that  skirted  the  street  upon  either  side,  lost  in 
her  own  meditations,  when  footsteps  approached  her,  and 
a  shadow  fell  upon  the  pavement  on  which  her  eyes  were 
resting.  Looking  up,  she  saw  a  tall  figure  standing  before 
her.  For  one  moment  the  gaze  of  the  two  met,  and 
"  Nettie !"  with  its  old  sound  greeted  her  ear. 

"Herbert!  my  long-lost  Herbert,  yet  lives!"  This  was 
breathed  by  lips  pale  and  bloodless ;  and  had  not  a  strong 
arm  been  placed  around  her,  she  would  have  fallen. 

"  Nettie,  Nettie !  my  precious  one !  Remember  where  we 
are,  and  compose  yourself." 

Her  ear  was  not  deaf  to  the  entreaty ;  and  summoning 
all  her  faltering  resolution,  she  drove  back  the  palsying 
tremor  which  joy  at  his  sudden  appearance  had  occasioned, 
and  in  a  moment  stood  before  him,  calm  and  quiet,  the 
young  seamstress  of  an  hour  before. 

"  Thi<?  is  a  joy,"  said  Herbert,  as  she  took  his  arm  and 
they  walked  slowly  on  together,  "that  for  years  I  have 
feared  to  anticipate.  But  where  will  you  lead  me  ?"  he  ex- 
claimed. "  I  have  much  to  tell,  and  you  much  to  hear. 
Perhaps,  after  all,  this  blissful  cup  has  been  placed  to  my 
lips  only  that  it  may  be  dashed  to  the  ground  before  I  can 
taste  its  sweets.  Oh,  Nettie,  this  is  a  strange  life !  Eight 

240 


THE  PARDONED  HERBERT.         241 

years  have  changed  us  both,  and  it  may  be  your  heart  re- 
peats not  the  words  of  our  parting." 

She  did  not  speak,  but  her  eyes  revealed  the  truth  of 
unchanging  love. 

"  But  tell  me,"  she  asked,  after  they  had  walked  on  a 
few  moments  in  silence;  "how  is  it  that  we  have  met 
hei  e  in  a  city  so  far  away  from  our  early  home  ?" 

"  Mere  chance  led  me  to  you,  or  perhaps  you  will  say  a 
Father's  hand  guided  my  footsteps.  I  have  almost  been 
led  to  believe  this  myself  since  witnessing  the  mysterious 
way  through  which  I  have  been  led  so  often  since  I  saw 
you  last." 

"Would  that  you  had  quite  learned  to  believe  in  a 
Father's  care  I"  she  said,  meekly. 

He  continued : 

"I  entered  our  native  village  some  months  ago,  but 
could  learn  nothing  of  you.  Business  detained  me,  as  I 
found  the  property  which  had  belonged  to  my  mother  left 
for  me,  should  I  ever  return.  After  attending  to  th^c, 
I  had  determined  to  find  you,  should  I  be  obliged  to 
search  the  world  over.  Five  weeks  since,  while  looking 
over  some  old  papers  in  the  office  of  our  mutual  friend 

Charles  B ,  I  found  one  containing  a  thrilling  accc  unt 

of  the  landslide  in  this  city,  and  one  name  upon  the 
melancholy  list  which  was  appended  attracted  my  atten- 
tion. The  rest,  darling,  you  can  imagine.  Once  more  we 
have  met ;  whether  we  are  to  be  again  sundered  depend* 
entirely  upon  your  decision." 

Flora  was  sitting  by  the  piano  singing  or  chanting  a 
wild,  fitful  song,  learned  in  early  childhood,  while  her 
slender  fingers  were  playing  an  improvised  accompani- 
ment, filling  up  the  strange  melody  from  her  lips,  as  the 
happy  couple  reached  the  gate. 

The  young  man  stopped,  and  with  wonder  and  astonish- 
ment depicted  upon  his  face,  inquired, 

"  Nettie,  who  is  that  sweet  singer  ?" 

11 


242  THE  PARDONED  HERBERT. 

"  They  call  me  '  Anna '  here,"  remarked  his  companion, 
with  a  smile. 

"Anna?" 

"  Yes ;  we  ladies  are  accused  of  a  fondness  for  change, 
and  I  thought  to  satisfy  this  whim  of  my  nature,  and  at 
the  same  time  to  carry  out  my  purpose  of  seclusion  better, 
by  adopting  the  first  part  of  my  lawful  name,  instead  of  the 
latter,  which  had  become  too  sacred  to  me  to  be  used  by 
unfamiliar  lips.  But  you  inquired  about  the  fair  singer 
who  is  caite  unconsciously  charming  you,  I  perceive. 
Enter,  and  I  will  introduce  you  to  her ;  she  is  as  beautiful 
and  good,  as  her  music  is  enchanting." 

Flora  arose,  as  she  heard  footsteps  in  the  passage,  and 
came  to  the  door  with  a  smile  of  welcome  upon  her  lips ; 
but  seeing  the  stranger,  she  started  back,  and  with  a  faint 
cry  of  surprise  sank  upon  a  chair,  pale  and  agitated.  There 
was  no  mistaking  the  cast  of  that  face.  The  large  hazel 
eyes  which  looked  so  wonderingly  into  hers  could  be  none 
other  than  those  which,  three  years  before,  had  beamed 
down  upon  her  with  a  soul  full  of  silent  joy  and  thankful- 
ness. Yes,  Edward  Herbert,  the  friend  of  Edgarton,  for 
the  preservation  of  whose  life  she  had  plighted  her  maiden 
vow,  now  stood  before  her,  and  his  presence  brought  back 
such  a  flood  of  memories  that  her  brain  grew  wild ;  and 
stretching  forth  her  hands  to  Anna,  she  gasped  for  help. 

"  Flora,"  exclaimed  the  young  man,  rushing  forward  and 
clasping  the  outstretched  hand  firmly  in  his  own — "  Flora, 
my  preserver,  shrink  not  from  me.  There  is  no  blood  upon 
my  hand,  and  to  you — to  you  alone — I  owe  my  life  and  my 
present  joy.  Compose  yourself,"  he  continued,  seeing  that 
she  still  trembled  violently.  "  Edgarton  told  you  of  a  blue- 
eyed  maiden  whose  pale  face  had  grown  paler  with  anxious 
fears  and  tearful  watchings  for  one  who  would  never  return 
to  her.  Behold,  Flora,  the  beautiful  blue-eyed  maiden  for 
whose  happiness  you  saved  the  life  of  her  betrothed.  If  you 
would  make  your  work  complete,  help  me  to  reveal  that 


THE  PARDONED  HERBERT.  243 

tragical  story  of  the  past,  in  such  a  manner  that  the  love 
which  will  make  the  life  you  saved  endurable,  may  not 
Bhrink  in  horror  from  me." 

There  was  a  long  conversation  in  the  little  parlor  that 
night.  Revelations  were  made  that  caused  the  cheek  to 
pale  and  tears  follow  in  quick  succession  over  the  rehearsal 
of  wrongs  and  mental  tortures,  and  quickened  the  pulsa- 
tions of  the  heart,  and  sent  the  hot  blood  rushing  to  cheek 
and  brow  with  a  crimson  sympathetic  glow,  while  here  and 
there  a  sunbeam  played  upon  the  sombre  picture,  and  sent 
its  rays  out  into  the  future  with  a  soul-cheering  light, 
until  another  cloud  came  rolling  up  and  shut  it  out  from 
sight. 

But  when  the  morning  came,  and  Flora  re-entered  the 
parlor  which  she  had  left  the  previous  evening  in  possession 
of  the  seamstress  and  her  restored  lover,  there  was  a  new 
light  of  subdued  joy  beaming  from  the  faces  of  her  friends 
that  the  long  night  had  failed  to  dim. 

Four  weeks  afterward  Herbert  Travers — or  Ned  Herbert 
of  the  United  States  army — led  to  the  hymeneal  altar  the 
still  lovely  Annetta  Graves,  whose  early  love  had  outlived 
years  of  separation,  and  came  forth  from  the  blight  of 
surrounding  circumstances  as  fresh  and  vigorous  as  when 
plighted  with  maiden  modesty  beneath  the  vine-covered 
roof  of  her  childhood's  happy  home. 

The  frost-covered  branches  of  the  prim  old  lilac  bush 
were  still  glistening  in  the  early  sunlight,  when  Mr.  Fenn 
and  the  kind  old  pastor  who  had  long  been  Anna's  friend 
and  the  friend  of  her  mother  entered  the  little  parlor  where 
Lura  alone  was  sitting  to  receive  them.  A  few  moments 
afterward  Flora  entered  with  traces  of  tears  upon  her  cheeks, 
but  with  a  smile  upon  her  lips,  as  she  clasped  alternately 
the  hands  extended  to  her.  Then  footsteps,  as  of  two  walk- 
ing side  by  side,  were  heard  along  the  passage,  and  the 
happy  pair  whose  future  was  this  hour  to  be  united  stood 
before  the  gray-haired  man  of  God,  who  reverently  united 


244  THE  PARDONED  HERBERT. 

their  hands  and  linked  their  lives  with  an  inseparable  bond; 
then  with  uplifted  hands  invoked  a  blessing  to  rest  upon 
the  new  life  that  hour  commenced. 

The  marriage  of  the  pale  young  seamstress  was  in  keep- 
ing with  her  unassuming  life,  but  who  could  doubt,  looking 
upon  her  radiant  face,  that  it  was  also  as  true  and  pure? 

One  hour  after,  the  happy  pair  stood  upon  the  broad 
white  deck  of  the  Vanderbilt  as  she  snorted  and  puffed  in 
her  restless  eagerness  to  be  once  more  free  from  the  sloops 
and  barges  that  surrounded  her,  and  proudly  bore  her  trea- 
sures off  down  the  majestic  Hudson.  Farewells  were  sent  to 
them  .from  the  company  that  lingered  and  gazed  at  them 
on  the  wharf;  and  as  long  as  Anna  could  perceive  Flora's 
handkerchief  waving  in  the  morning  breeze,  tears  dimmed 
her  sight. 

"  You  and  I,"  she  whispered,  turning  to  Herbert,  as  the 
last  familiar  sight  was  swallowed  in  the  distance — "  it's  only 
you  and  I." 

"  No  other  is  needed  to  make  me  happy,"  was  his  con- 
tented reply;  and  the  response  which  came  up  from  her 
inmost  soul  brought  the  joy  of  his  heart  out  upon  his  ex- 
pressive countenance.  "Back  in  the  vine-covered  cottage 
where  we  have  spent  so  many  joyous  days  we  will  take 
up  the  severed  link  that  joins  us  with  the  past,  and  live  as 
though  no  dark,  spectral  years  had  come  in  between,  with 
their  separations,  their  bereavements  and  their  sorrows.  See 
the  smooth  waters  before  us.  Nothing  disturbs  the  bosom 
of  this  lovely  river.  We  plough  through  it,  and  the  track 
closes  up  as  calmly  as  though  no  furrows  had  beoti  made 
on  its  bosom." 

Flora,  accompanied  by  Mr.  Fenn,  returned  to  her  home 
that  lovely  autumnal  morning  more  sad  and  dispirited  than 
she  had  been  for  many  weeks.  Lura  had  been  detained  by 
the  fast-declining  health  of  her  aged  friend,  and  Miss  Gooi- 
ale  was  alone  to  meet  her. 

"So  that  wedding  is  over,  and  I  "am  very  glad  of  H,* 


THE  PARDONED  HERBERT.         245 

was  her  first  salutation.  "  Now  I  want  to  have  you  bestow 
upon  me  the  affection  which  you  threw  away  upon  her. 
I  can  be  as  good  and  true  a  friend  as  she  could  possibly  be, 
and  there  is  no  reason  why  you  shouldn't  love  me." 

Flora  smiled,  in  spite  of  her  present  sorrow,  as  she  looked 
upon  the  simple,  artless  face  before  her. 

"You  seem  to  assume  as  a  positive  fact  that  I  do  not 
love  you,"  she  said,  quickly,  opening  at  the  same  time  the 
piano,  preparatory  to  her  morning  task. 

"  You  can  close  that  again,"  said  the  young  lady,  waving 
her  delicately  gloved  hand  toward  the  instrument ;  "  I  do 
not  feel  like  singing.  Besides,  I  want  to  prove  to  you  that 
you  do  not  love  me,  or  else  I  want  the  satisfaction  of  know- 
ing that  you  do." 

"  Very  well,"  answered  Flora,  doing  as  she  was  bidden. 
*  Now  for  the  test" 

"  If  one  person  loves  another,  such  person  will  do  any- 
thing in  her  power  to  please  that  other,  will  she  not  ?" 

"  If  her  wishes  be  not  unreasonable,"  answered  Flora. 

"  Mine  are  never  unreasonable,"  rejoined  Mattie,  laughing 
heartily;  "so  that,  if  your  affection  is  not  spurious,  you 
will  grant  the  request  I  have  to  make." 

"  Perhaps  so." 

"  There  is  no  '  perhaps '  in  the  bargain ;  you  must !" 

"  Rather  imperative,"  said  Flora,  growing  more  cheerful 
in  spite  of  herself.  "  But  I  am  becoming  very  impatient  to 
know  to  what  ordeal  I  am  to  be  subjected." 

"  Listen,  then.    Next  Tuesday  is  my  eighteenth  birthday, 

and  the  evening  w  to  be  honored  by  a  party.    A  large  one, 

,  sumptuous  and  brilliant,  was  intended,  but  my  sister,  being 

away  and  concluding  not  to  return  in  time  for  the  f£te,  has 

caused  it  to  crumble  down  to  a  merely  social  gathering." 

Flora  started,  but  the  volatile  girl  continued : 

"  Now,  the  proof  of  your  affection  is  to  be  your  consent 
or  refusal  to  be  one  of  my  guests  on  that  eventful  evening. 
My  mamma  will  never  know  you,  for  she  can't  see  three 


246  THE  PARDONED  HERBERT. 

inches  beyond  her  dignified  Grecian  nose,  and  has  no  idea 
•whether  the  girl  who  paid  her  that  untimely  visit  which 
deprived  my  sister  of  her  beau  ideal  lover  is  really  black  or 
white.  You  hesitate?  I  shall  send  our  carriage  for  you 
precisely  at  nine  o'clock." 

"  Think,  Mattie,  for  my  sake.  Is  there  no  other  way  in 
which  you  can  try  my  affection?"  said  Flora,  huiriedly. 
"  You  know  that  your  request,  to  say  the  least,  is  very  im- 
practicable for  many  reasons." 

"Please  stop,"  said  Mattie,  imploringly;  "impractica- 
bilities and  reasonings  always  irritate  me.  You  can  come 
if  you  will,  and  I  can  convince  you  that  I  am  right.  That 
pretty  blue  silk  which  Anna  was  remodeling  into  such  per- 
fect style  the  other  day  will  do  nicely.  I  thought  of  it  at 
the  time,  and  did  want  to  suggest  low  neck  and  short  sleeves. 
But  then  your  style  of  beauty  looks  queenly  in  a  close  fitting 
bodice,  and  no  ornament  is  needed  to  enliven  your  charms. 
Besides,  you  are  such  a  superb  singer !  It  is  a  pity  to  waste 
so  much  sweetness  on  this  unappreciative  furniture,  when  so 
many  might  be  charmed  by  it." 

"  Forgive  me,  but  really  I  must  interrupt  your  plausible 
arguments.  It  is  time  I  was  on  my  way  to  school,"  said 
Flora,  rising,  and  walking  across  the  room  to  the  table  on 
which  her  books  were  lying. 

"Flora,  how  graceful  you  are!  You  must  have  taken 
dancing  lessons  when  very  young.  So  did  I,  but  mamma 
says  I  am  as  awkward  as  Phillis,  and  she  never  gets  into  a 
chair  without  first  upsetting  it  or  seating  herself  upon  the 
floor." 

Flora  laughed  heartily,  as  she  thought  of  her  early  quad-, 
lilies  and  cotillions,  taught  by  the  skipping  fawn  which  she 
had  determined  to  capture,  as  they  both  bounded,  in  eager 
chase,  over  rocks  and  fallen  trees  in  her  native  woods,  or 
practiced  while  climbing  the  bold  cliff  to  search  for  the 
first  spring  flower  that  had  dared  to  peep  out  at  the  sun. 


THE  PARDONED  HERBERT.  247 

But  she  remarked  quietly,  as  she  donned  her  bonnet  and 
ehawl, 

"  I  will  think  of  what  you  have  been  urging.  Meanwhile, 
do  not  judge  me  too  harshly.  Your  heart  must  tell  you 
that  one  so  lonely  as  I  must  prize  an  affection  so  freely 
offered  as  yours  has  been.  If  it  does  not,  it  is  because  you 
have  never  known  the  desolation  of  an  orphan's  life.  I  do 
love  you;"  and  she  stooped  and  kissed  the  inviting  face' 
turned  toward  her.  "Your  lively  humor  refreshes  me. 
This  morning  a  gloomy  cloud  seemed  to  envelop  me,  but 
you  have  perforated  its  dark  folds  and  let  in  a  struggling 
ray  of  sunshine.  All  day  it  will  cheer  me,  making  my 
burden  lighter  and  speeding  on  the  lagging  hours.  Do  you 
not  think  I  love  you  for  this  ?" 

The  chirping  girl  returned  her  warm  kiss,  and  with  her 
accustomed  volatility  said,  laughing,  as  they  left  the  house 
together, 

"  I  shall  send  my  carriage  precisely  at  nine,  with  strict 
orders  not  to  return  without  you ;  so  make  yourself  pretty 
if  you  do  not  wish  to  appear  in  that  faded  calico."  ' 

"  Faded  calico !"  thought  Flora,  looking  down  at  her 
dress,  as  she  walked  on.  "  Yes,  it  is  faded,  and  this  is  not 
the  first  time  my  attention  has  been  called  to  the  fact,  and 
with  more  cruel  intentions  than  actuated  my  thoughtless 
friend  j  ast  now  j"  and  the  crimson  glow  burned  upon  her 
cheek.  "  But  I  will  not  care.  There  is  One,  at  least,  who 
will  not  judge  us  by  our  apparel ;  at  his  feet  let  me  sit  and 
learn  patience  and  forbearance  amid  all  my  perplexities !" 

Flora  had  been  twice  to  Mrs.  Lane's  since  the  missing 
brooch  was  found,  and  to-night  she  must  repeat  her  visit. 
There  was  a  dread  associated  with  this  duty,  for  the  light 
that  once  cheered  and  illuminated  that  elegant  home  had 
gone  out,  and  desolation  and  death  were  written  every- 
where. The  spacious  rooms  were  cold  and  cheerless  to  her ; 
echoes  of  gleeful  laughter  and  merry  voices  slumbered  on 
even  in  the  long  halls,  awakened  not  by  the  muffled  step 


248  THE  PARDONED  HERBERT. 

which  moved  slowly  and  mechanically  through  them,  yet 
dismal  forms  passed  each  other  upon  the  stairway  and 
looked  into  each  other's  faces  with  a  sad,  disconsolate 
expression,  then  vanished  from  sight,  each  to  mourn,  per- 
chance, over  the  one  great  sorrow,  never  once  striving  to 
penetrate  the  cloud  that  had  descended  upon  them. 

A  cold,  dreary  rain  had  set  in,  and  was  steadily  falling 
when  Flora  presented  herself  at  the  door  of  Mrs.  Lane's 
residence  and  was  shown  to  that  lady's  dressing-room, 
where  the  thickly  drawn  curtains  shut  out  Nature's  feeble 
light  and  created  almost  a  midnight  gloom. 

"  I  am  so  glad  you  have  come,"  said  Mrs.  Lane,  feebly, 
who  was  seated  in  a  softly  cushioned  chair  near  the  grate, 
where  a  nickering  fire  was  burning.  "Come  and  sit  by 
me ;  I  wish  to  talk  with  you." 

Flora  drew  an  ottoman  near  her,  and  prepared  to  listen. 

"You  are  no  worse?"  she  inquired,  as  she  caught  a 
glimpse  of  the  pale  face  from  the  feeble  light  of  the  dying 
embers. 

"Worse?  Yes,  yes,  T  am  infinitely  worse.  0  God!  my 
fate  could  not  be  more  bitter,  more  unendurable.  Flora,  I 
am  blind.  My  physician  tells  me  I  am  hopelessly  blind, 
and  I  know  it — yes,  I  know  it ;"  and  the  poor  woman  burst 
into  tears  and  wept  convulsively. 

"  Dear  friend,  do  not  weep,"  said  Flora,  pityingly.  "  Please, 
do  not  weep ;  it  will  make  you  so  much  worse." 

"  There  is  no  use  in  talking  to  me  in  that  strain.  I  have 
heard  those  same  words  over  and  over  and  over  again  during 
the  last  six  months,  and  what  good  have  they  accomplished? 
Not  one  of  those  who  utter  them  knows  my  sorrow — not 
one  can  feel  a  mother's  grief,  which  crushes  me.  Then,  to 
be  blind !  Oh,  Flora,  to  be  blind  is  worse  than  death — far, 
far  worse." 

"Can  I  not  comfort  you?"  said  Flora,  laying  hold  of  her 
hand  with  a  tender  affection.  "  I  have  heard  that  there  was 
much  consolation  to  he  found  even  in  blindness — much  t» 


THE  PARDONED  HERBERT.  249 

one  resigned,  and  even  cheerful,  under  so  great  an 
affliction." 

"  That  is  because  they  who  say  so  have  not  tried  it ;  I 
know  better." 

"  I  know  it  must  be  sad — ah  I  very,  very  sad — but  it  has 
been  a  great  pleasure  to  me,  when  sorrowing,  to  feel  that 
'  whom  the  Lord  loveth  he  chasteneth.' " 

Mrs.  Lane  groaned,  and  remained  silent.  Much  did  Flora 
Bay  to  her,  but  the  unhappy  woman  could  not  look  beyond 
her  one  great  sorrow,  which  with  its  vast  immensity  filled 
all  her  future. 

Poor  Flora  1  Hour  after  hour  was  passed  by  her  in  that 
room,  so  dark  and  dismal,  vainly  endeavoring  to  soothe  the 
wretched  mother,  who  only  fretted  and  pined  beneath  her 
burden,  and  refused  the  aid  of  any  hand  which  sought  to 
relieve  her  of  it.  Though  the  task  was  a  thankless  one; 
Flora  did  not  shrink  from  it. 

"  I  am  only  doing  my  duty,"  was  her  invariable  response, 
when  friends  anxious  for  her  health  sought  to  induce  hej 
to  relinquish  some  of  the  tasks  which  she  had  imposed 
upon  herself. 

"  But,"  said  Mrs.  Clark,  upon  one  of  these  occasions,"  there 
are  duties  connected  with  ourselves  which  God  will  not 
Buffer  us  to  disregard  without  our  paying  the  penalty  of 
our  disobedience.  Just  think,  my  child,  what  an  amount 
of  work  you  are  doing  every  week :  four  whole  days  and 
two  half  days  each  week  in  school,  six  music  pupils  to  fill 
up  the  half  holidays  in  which  you  should  take  recreation, 
two  mornings  filled  up  with  lessons  to  another  pupil,  be- 
sides all  the  dusting  and  sweeping  and  scouring  and  scrub- 
bing which  is  crowded  into  every  other  minute  when  you 
are  not  studying ;  and  now  you  will  increase  all  this  heavy 
weight  by  taking  upon  yourself  the  office  of  comforter  and 
counselor  to  one  who  clouds  your  joys  and  turns  a  deaf  ear 
to  your  words  of  consolation." 

Flora  gmiled,  ae  she  &seed  her  aged  advieer,  then,  taking 


260  THE  PARDONED  HERBERT. 

her  thin,  wasted  face  between  her  own  plump  hands,  said, 
lightly, 

"  Surely,  my  dear,  kind  friend,  you  have  piled  up  quite 
a  budget  of  work  before  me ;  I  did  not  realize  before  that  I 
wo*  so  enterprising.  It  really  gives  me  new  life.  I  think 
I  must  look  for  another  pupil  to  fill  up  my  vacant  hours  on 
Wednesday  afternoons.  A  tear  ?  Oh,  my  dear  friend,  you 
cannot  think  I  deem  your  solicitude  idle  and  worthless. 
No,  no,  you  can  only  imagine  how  sweet  it  is  to  me.  But 
I  feel  so  much  better,  now  that  I  can  pay  the  most  of  my 
own  expenses ;"  and  she  kissed  again  the  anxious,  uptui  aed 
face,  whispering,  "Forgive  me  if  my  words  seemed  un- 
appreciative  or  cold." 

"  No,  no,  it  was  not  that  I  know  you  too  well  to  judge 
you  harshly,  my  child,  but  I  am  grieved  to  think  how 
Boon  you  will  be  alone.  Who  will  love  you  as  I  have 
done?" 

"  Do  not  speak  thus.  You  will  stay  with  us  yet  a  long 
time,  for  you  are  better,  much  better,  and  the  cool  air  will 
work  wonders  for  you." 

She  did  not  seem  to  notice  Flora's  words,  but  continued : 

"  I  am  very  sorry  to  perceive  a  coldness  existing  between 
my  children.  Flora,  what  does  it  mean?  She  will  not 
tell  me.  It  will  sadden  my  last  hour  to  know  that  you 
both  stand  beside  me  with  a  severed  interest  and  your  love 
crushed  and  broken." 

Flora  bowed  her  head  and  wept. 

"A  few  months  ago  you  were  sisters  in  affliction,  and 
my  poor  widowed  heart  rejoiced  to  see  you  together,  so 
loving,  so  kind.  Oh,  Flora,  forgive  her  if  she  has  done 
aught  to  grieve.  Let  me  see  you  happy  together  once 
more  before  I  die." 

Lura  was  sitting  in  the  adjoining  room,  busy,  as  usual, 
with  her  pen,  when  the  tremulous  voice  of  the  invalid 
reached  her  ear;  and  when  the  last  words  had  escaped  her 
tbia  white  lips,  and  she  saw  the  tears  coursing  down  the 


THE  PARDONED  HERBERT.         251 

deep  furrows  of  her  cheek,  she  arose  hurriedly  and  knelt 
by  the  side  of  the  weeping  Flora. 

"  The  fault  is  entirely  my  own,"  she  said,  in  a  calm,  sweet 
voice.  "  It  was  I  who  severed  that  hallowed  bond  so  pre- 
cious to  me ;  my  spirit  of  evil  it  is  that  has  desecrated  our 
fair  Utopia,  and  brought  desolation  and  bitter  repentance 
into  this  restless,  envious  heart  and  deep,  dark  sorrows 
upon  one  as  pure  and  loving  as  humanity  can  claim.  It  is 
all  my  own  work,  and  upon  me  alone,  my  dear,  dear  friend, 
shall  the  bitter  punishment  of  your  sorrow  fall." 

Flora,  without  raising  her  head,  placed  her  arm  gently 
and  affectionately  around  the  kneeling  figure  beside  her. 

"My  children,  my  children!"  said  the  old  lady,  feebly, 
as  she  laid  a  hand  upon  each  head.  "May  the  God  in 
whom  I  have  trusted,  and  ever  found  an  unfailing  Friend 
in  every  time  of  need,  guide  and  protect  you,  and  with  a 
loving  hand  drive  away  every  cloud  that  may  hover  over 
you,  and  lead  you  in  safety  through  a  bright  and  peaceful 
future !" 

Her  voice  failed  her ;  and  with  streaming  eyes  and  clasped 
hands,  that  were  raised  imploringly  upward,  her  lips  moved 
in  silent  prayer. 

"  She  is  praying  for  us,"  said  Flora,  quickly. 

"  God  grant  that  her  prayer  may  be  answered !"  replied 
Lura,  throwing  her  arms  affectionately  around  her  friend 
and  pressing  her  fondly. 

"  Are  we  sisters  once  again,  dear  Lura  ?" 

"  Sisters,  henceforth  and  for  ever.  Oh,  I  have  been  very 
unkind ;  but  did  you  know  my  heart— the  dreadful  demon 
that  ever  dwells  there — you  would  forgive  and  pity  me." 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 
ALONE  NO  LONGER. 

*•  fT^HE  vessel  in  which  your  family  are  to  sail  leaves  New 

_L  York  for  Liverpool  this  week,  I  understand,"  said 
Mr.  Fenn  to  Lura,  one  evening,  as  he  was  conversing- with 
her  and  Flora  in  the  little  parlor. 

Lura  expressed  surprise.  She  had  not  heard  when  they 
were  to  leave,  and  now  the  time  was  so  near !  Perhaps  she 
should  never  see  them  again ;  and  a  feeble  wail  of  agony 
arose  in  her  heart. 

"  My  mother,  oh,  my  mother,  is  no  thought  of  thine  with 
me  this  night?" 

A  low,  suppressed  cough  came  to  them  through  the  open 
door,  and  Lura  hastily  left  the  room. 

"  Mrs.  Clark  grows  more  and  more  feeble  every  day,"  said 
Flora,  solemnly. 

"  Your  home  will  again  be  broken  up  when  she  has  gone ; 
where  will  my  little  friend  find  another  ?"  asked  Mr.  Fenn, 
•with  an  assumed  look  of  indifference  upon  his  face. 

"I  have  not  thought  much  about  it,"  answered  Flora; 
"God  will  provide  another  for  me,  as  He  has  provided 
this." 

An  incipient  sneer  for  an  instant  disfigured  his  features, 
and  he  was  silent. 

"  Flora,  I  wish  my  faith  were  as  active  as  yours,"  he  at 
length  remarked.  "  But  it  troubles  me  to  think  of  leaving 
you  with  an  uncertain  future  hanging  over  you." 

"  Leave  me  ?"  she  exclaimed,  in  surprise ;  "  surely  you  do 
not  propose  leaving  me?  Oh,  how  sad,  how  lonely,  I  shall 
be  1"  And  then,  as  if  fearing  that  she  had  spoken  too  frankly, 

m 


ALONE  NO  LONGER.  253 

she  asked,  with  more  quietness,  driving  back  the  tears  which 
had  somewhat  dimmed  her  vision,  "  Why  do  you  leave  thia 
beautiful  city  and  the  friends  who  will  miss  you  so  much  ? 
Are  you  not  cruel?" 

"  Am  I,  Flora  ?  Perhaps  you  are  not  aware  that  my  visit 
has  been  prolonged  now  for  more  than  a  year,  during  which 
time  1  have  been  flitting  like  a  silly  butterfly  around  one  of 
the  most  beautiful,  but  unconsciously  so,  flowers  that  mortal 
eyes  evor  gazed  upon.  Having  become  restless  in  this  idle 
employ,  and  heartsick  at  my  unappreciated  efforts  to  win  a 
love  which  I  have  concluded  can  never  be  mine,  I  have  de- 
termined to  wander  back  to  my  old  home  and  become  once 
more  the  stern  old  bachelor  of  former  days ;"  and  his  looks 
more  than  his  words,  which  he  had  intended  should  be 
indifferently  careless,  revealed  the  disappointments  of  his 
heart  and  the  dreariness  of  the  future  which  he  had  pic- 
tured for  himself. 

"  Why  do  you  talk  thus  ?  Your  words  distress  me  more 
than  I  can  express.  Surely  the  fair  Lena — " 

"Flora,  Flora!"  and  he  caught  her  hand  tightly  in  his 
own,  while  his  dark  eyes  looked  intently  into  hers ;  "  you 
cannot  suppose — you  certainly  have  not  supposed — that 
Miss  Lena  was  aught  else  to  me  than  a  friend  in  whose 
society  I  could  sometimes  forget  the  stern  destiny  that  ruled 
my  lonely  life  ?  Flora,  it  is  you  I  love  with  all  the  ardor 
of  my  being — it  is  you  whom  I  would  shield  from  the  thou- 
sand ills  that  must  beset  an  orphan's  life,  and  upon  whose 
future  I  would  lavish  every  pleasure  that  a  devoted  heart 
and  attendant  wealth  are  able  to  bestow.  But  you  do  not 
love  me,  and  I  dare  not  longer  remain  in  the  presence  of 
one  who  wields  such  an  influence  over  me.  I  must  go,  but 
the  desolate  hours  which  the  future  holds  in  reserve  for 
me  shall  be  gilded  by  sweet  memories  of  you." 

For  the  first  time  during  their  long  intercourse  his  head 
drooped  and  his  resolute  nature  yielded  to  impulsive  grief. 

"Do  not,"  said  Flora,  laying  her  hands  tenderly  upor*  hia 

23 


264  ALONE  NO  LONGER. 

bowed  head ;  "  you  do  not  know  me.  I  could  whisper  in 
your  ear  words  so  obnoxious  that  you  would  leave  me  with 
a  cold,  haughty  look,  your  love  withered,  and  disgust,  as  a 
nauseous  weed,  filling  its  place.  Conscious  of  this,  could  I 
dare  to  win  a  love  I  knew  I  could  not  keep  ?" 

"Flora,  in  this  your  attempted  consolation  you  would 
ake  away  the  only  hope  of  my  future.  Spare  me,  I  beg 
of  you — spare  this  misery ;  I  do  not  deserve  it ;"  and  he 
rose  to  his  feet  and  paced  the  floor  in  evident  distress. 

Poor  girl!  She  was  spellbound  before  him;  she  dared 
not  utter  another  word,  through  fear  that  she  should  un- 
consciously increase  that  distress. 

At  last  he  stopped  before  her  and  looked  for  an  instant 
into  her  pale  face ;  then,  clasping  her  form  ardently  to  his 
heart,  he  whispered, 

"  Speak  those  fearful  words,  Flora !  It  is  better  to  hate 
than  to  love  you  so  madly,  yet  so  hopelessly !  But  I  warn 
you  of  an  entire  failure.  Speak  to  me,  that  I  may  prove 
my  words !" 

Flora  did  not  struggle  to  release  herself.  The  world  was 
cold,  friendship  unsatisfying;  prolonged  struggles,  inter- 
woven with  disappointments  and  shattered  hopes,  had 
wearied  her  young  heart,  and  she  sank  down  for  a  brief 
moment,  happy  and  peaceful,  resting  upon  promises  of  thia 
new  affection.  His  words  aroused  her. 

"  Must  I  speak  ?  oh,  must  I  dispel  this  blissful  dream  for 
ever?  It  is  sweet  to  have  such  a  noble  friend,  such  a  strong 
arm  thrown  about  me  to  shield  me  from  every  rude  blast 
that  may  burst  around  me.  Why  should  I  not  love  him? 
Why  may  I  not?"  Thus  ran  her  silent  questionings. 

"  Flora !" 

The  tender  accents  of  that  voice  breathed  so  closely  to  her 
ear  dispelled  her  thoughts. 

"  I  cannot,  Mr.  Fenn.  You  will  love  me  no  longer  when 
I  reveal  to  you  my  ignominious  birth — my  despicable 
parentage." 


ALONE  NO  LONGER,.  255 

"  Is  my  love  precious  to  you,  then  ?"  he  asked,  quietly. 

"Very  precious;"  and  bursting  into  tears,  she  hid  her 
face  in  his  bosom. 

"  Then  I  care  not  what  your  origin  may  have  been.  Give 
me  yourself  just  as  you  are — beautiful,  and  pure,  and  good, 
as  I  now  behold  you — and  I  ask  for  no  pryings  into  the 
dark  past,  for  glorious  will  be  my  future,  and  with  that  I 
ahull  be  content.  Will  you,  dearest — will  you  be  mine? — 
mine  Flora?" 

"  No,  no,  no !  I  cannot — I  cannot !"  she  almost  shrieked, 
starting  to  her  feet.  "  You  must  know  all,  and  I  must  tell 
you." 

Her  cheek  was  blanched,  her  lips  bloodless;  and  with  a 
burning  light  in  her  eye,  she  exclaimed,  with  mournful 
pathos, 

"Oh,  what  a  wrong  I  have  done  you!  But  I  did  not 
intend  it.  I  thought  you  were  my  friend — a  very  dear  one, 
I  knew,  yet  my  friend,  no  more ;"  and  she  threw  her  arms 
about  his  neck,  as  she  whispered,  "  But  you  do  not  know 
I  am  an  Indian  girl — yes,  an  Indian  girl,  my  mother  the 
poor,  despised — " 

"Impossible!  Flora,  you  are  mad!  Tell  me  this  is 
not  so." 

"  Did  I  not  warn  you  ?"  she  asked,  looking  at  him 
steadily  with  her  burning  eyes.  "  I  knew  you  would  hate 
me.  O  God !  life  was  a  sad  boon,  bestowed  upon  one  like 
myself;"  and  she  sank  into  a  chair  and  buried  her  face  in 
her  hands. 

"  But  you  said  I  would  hate  you,  dear  Flora,"  said  Mr. 
Fenn,  approaching  her ;  "  in  this  you  were  mistaken.  I  love 
you  as  dearly  as  ever.  Pardon  my  words,  if  in  the  expres- 
sion of  surprise  they  led  you  to  distrust  me." 

She  was  standing  beside  him  with  her  keen  oye  bent 
full  upon  his  face.  With  a  smile  full  of  sadness,  she  said, 
quietly, 

"  The  scorn  upon  the  white  man's  lips  betraye  his  heart. 


256  ALONE  NO  LONGER. 

Ah!  will  not  the  cold,  chilling  blast  of  memory  sighing 
ever  through  his  rose-covered  bower  cause  his  ardor  to  flag 
and  his  joys  to  wither  ?  Leave  me.  The  daughter  of  the 
red  man  loves  you  too  well  to  scatter  death  and  desolation 
over  your  brightest  hopes.  Leave  me,  oh,  leave  me !" 

"  Flora,  what  means  this  ?  Do  not  talk  so  wildly,"  he 
exclaimed,  with  deep  emotion,  stretching  out  his  hands 
toward  her.  There  was  no  scorn  in  that  pleading  look, 
no  waning  love  in  the  gaze  of  tenderness  that  beamed 
upon  her. 

"  Forgive  me.  The  spirit  of  my  mother  must  have  beon 
speaking  through  me.  It  was  not  I — oh,  not  I !"  and  clasp- 
ing her  hands  tightly  together,  she  fell  upon  her  knees  be- 
side him. 

"  Then  you  will  not  drive  me  from  you  ?  Tell  me,  Flora, 
that  you  will  be  mine — that  my  hand  may  ever  shield  you 
from  those  piercing  blasts  of  which  you  just  spoke,  and 
crown  you  the  queen  of  flowers  to  adorn  my  noonday 
bower.  Tell  me,  shall  it  be  so  ?" 

"As  you  like  it!"  and  her  head  drooped  upon  his 
shoulder. 

A  happy  heart  sent  up  its  thanksgi?aig  of  praise  that 
night  from  the  little  upper  chamber  of  that  humble  home. 
"  Lonely  no  more,"  it  softly  murmured,  as  Flora  laid  her- 
self down  to  rest.  "  Not  alone.  Though  monxhs  may  come 
between  us  before  we  meet,  he  will  not  forget  the  holy 
pledge  he  enshrined  in  a  joyous  heart  this  nighv  Oh  no, 
he  will  not  forget ;"  and  a  feeble  sigh  came  struggling  uji 
through  her  present  rgunded  joy,  as  memory  brought  thr 
little  withered  forget-me-not  and  placed  it  tremblingly  be 
side  her  new-found  love. 

Lura's  keen  glance  detected  the  unusual  light  in  the  eye  of 
her  friend,  and  the  happiness  that  lighted  her  beautiful  face, 
contrasting  it  with  the  gloom  which  had  settled  down  upon 
her  own  days  and  nights,  murmured,  but  was  silent. 


CHAPTER    XXXII. 
THE  CONFESSION. 

fTIHE  evening  for  the  anticipated  fete,  as  the  lively  Mattie 
JL  had  been  pleased  to  term  the  little  party  to  which  she 
had  invited  Flora,  at  last  arrived,  but  no  bright  anticipa- 
tions or  dreams  of  splendid  conquests  came  to  light  up  her 
face,  as  she  walked  leisurely  homeward  in  and  out  of  the 
evening  shadows  that  began  to  cluster  in  the  streets,  think- 
ing, wondering,  meditating,  yet  without  a  single  thought  of 
the  scene  just  before  her,  in  which  she  was  expected  to  act 
such  a  prominent  part.  Her  visit  to  Mrs.  Lane  had  been 
unusually  prolonged,  and  the  sadness  occasioned  by  it  had 
extinguished  the  steady  light  which  for  the  past  few  days 
had  shed  a  peaceful  glow  upon  her  life.  Poor  unhappy 
Mrs.  Lane !  Yet  she  always  seemed  pleased  when  she  felt 
the  touch  of  Flora's  hand  upon  her  own,  and  the  warm  kiss 
of  salutation  upon  her  cheek,  but  to-night  the  apparent 
pleasure  had  died  away,  and  a  deeper  despondency  than 
Flora  had  before  witnessed  clogged  her  spirits. 

"  Unhappy,  miserable  woman  that  I  am !"  she  exclaimed, 
vehemertly,  as  the  friendly  inquiries  of  her  visitor  fell  upon 
her  ear ;  "  and  God  has  proved  himself  my  tormentor.  Al- 
ready have  I  heard  his  voice  in  my  ear,  exclaiming,  '  Ven- 
geance is  mine;  I  will  repay.' " 

Flora  dropped  the  thin  white  hand  she  was  holding, 
started  back,  and  a  sensation  of  horror  crept  over  her,  but 
another  glance  at  that  pale,  bowed  face  and  the  large,  sight- 
less eyes  restored  the  pity  in  her  heart ;  and  keeling  by  her 
side,  she  fondly  pressed  the  sufferer's  hand  to  her  lips. 

"I  beseech  you,  my  dear  friend,"  she  pleaded,  "speak 

22  •  267 


258  THE  CONFESSION. 

not  so  unkindly  of  Him  whose  very  nature  is  sympathy 
and  love.  His  purposes  are  wise,  and  he  never  would  have 
afflicted  you  if  it  were  not  for  your  good  in  some  way." 

"My  sins  do  not  merit  such  an  intolerable  scourging. 
Was  it  such  an  unpardonable  offence  *hat  I  should  idolize 
the  beautiful  child  he  gave  me?  Was  it  not  a  greater  one 
that  I  turned  against  you  because  you  would  not  consent 
to  become  my  tool  and  carry  out  my  purposes  regarding 
her,  and  that  for  this  reason  I  used  ray  power  to  make  you 
miserable?  I  feel  the  hand  resting  upon  mine  tremble, 
Flora :  well  it  may.  Did  you  know  all,  you  would  shrink 
from  my  presence  and  leave  me  to  sink  beneath  my  fate. 
Yet  you  know  not  how  I  have  yearned  to  unburden  my 
bosom  to  you.  I  cannot  live  if  you  hate  me.  No,  no,  my 
child !  Your  love  is  the  only  bright  thing  of  earth  to  me. 
I  cannot  lose  it." 

In  her  agony  of  soul  she  half  arose  from  her  chair,  but 
sank  back  again  with  a  groan  of  despair.  Flora  was  shocked, 
but  her  duty  lay  plainly  before  her.  Could  this  be  the 
beautiful  mother  of  Kitty  Lane,  whose  smiling  face  seemed 
to  bear  indisputable  testimony  to  the  purity  of  the  soul 
within  ? 

"  You  do  not  hate  me  now,"  interrupted  Flora.  "  Love 
is  as  precious  to  me  as  it  can  be  to  you.  If,  then,  the  un- 
burdening of  your  heart  will  be  a  relief  to  you,  do  not,  I 
beseech  you,  hesitate ;  and  I  promise  you,  by  the  love  of 
her  who  once  sat  with  us  in  this  very  room,  and  whose 
gentle  spirit  is  perhaps  this  very  moment  hovering  tenderly 
over  us,  that  all  shall  be  freely  forgiven,  and  all  that  is 
unpleasant  in  the  past  shall  for  ever  be  excluded  from  our 
future  intercourse.  Will  you  trust  me?" 

A  low  moan  of  anguish  was  her  only  reply. 

"  Do  not  refer  to  it,"  continued  Flora,  "  unless  it  will  be 
a  relief  to  you  to  do  so.  I  have  no  curiosity  regarding  it; 
my  sensitive  nature  recoils  from  the  presentation  of  every 
dark  picture.  Would  to  God  that  I  could  rob  U»«  gallery 


THE  CONFESSION.  259 

of  the  past  of  many  that  now  hang  there  and  stare  down 
upon  me  with  sunken  eyes  and  ghastly  faces !  But  still  I 
would  endure  much  if  thus  I  might  be  instrumental  in 
shedding  upon  your  heart  but  a  single  ray  of  peace  and 
consolation." 

"  Flora,  I  am  adding  new  sorrows  to  your  dreary  life.  I 
did  not  mean  to  do  it,"  she  said,  drawing  the  bowed  head 
tenderly  to  her  bosom  ;  "  I  was  wrong  in  recalling  the  past. 
But  so  it  is;  the  tears  which  I  know  are  staining  your 
beautiful  cheeks  make  me  calm,  and  give  strength  to  my 
determination  to  reveal  to  you  what  I  have  long  desired 
to  do.  It  shall  be  very  brief.  Rest  here,  my  child,  near 
my  heart,  that  I  may  feel  your  first  recoil  as  I  proceed. 

"  The  first  evening  I  saw  you,  Flora,  a  strange  spirit  took 
possession  of  me,  and  I  determined  to  win  you  to  myself 
for  an  especial  object.  Harry,  Kitty's  cousin,  loved  her,  and 
in  my  heart  I  determined  you  should  come  between  her  and 
that  love.  I  could  not  consent  to  my  beautiful  child's  be- 
coming the  wife  of  a  beggar.  Your  beauty  I  believed  would 
fascinate  his  boyish  heart.  There  was  another,  a  frequent 
visitor  at  the  house,  to  whom  I  had  given  my  idol.  He  was 
rich  and  noble,  and  a  high  position  in  life  awaited  her  who 
received  the  honor  of  his  hand.  Oh,  how  have  my  fondest 
plans  been  thwarted — my  joys  and  anticipations  blasted  I 
I  saw  with  mortification  and  anger  the  burning  glances  that 
person  cast  upon  you,  but  I  still  was  calm.  No  heart  but 
my  own  knew  the  struggle  through  which  it  was  passing, 
and  impatiently  I  waited  for  the  weeks  which  we  were  to 
Ipend  in  New  York.  These,  I  fondly  hoped,  would  crown 
my  anticipations  with  a  happy  consummation.  Yet  I  loved 
you  with  all  the  affection  I  could  spare  from  my  child. 
Little  Clara  was  rapidly  recovering,  and  I  was  relieving  the 
nurse  for  a  few  moments,  when  I  was  summoned  to  the 
parlor  to  receive  a  visitor.  A  lady  met  me,  as  I  entered, 
whom  I  had  never  seen  before.  After  a  few  apologies  and 
preliminaries  she  informed  me  that  she  had  called  from  a 


260  THE  CONFESSION. 

•ense  of  duty,  to  give  me  a  little  information  concerning  a 
person  who,  she  understood,  was  a  daily  associate  of  my 
daughter ;  she  then  proceeded  to  inform  me  that  from  posi- 
tive proof  which  she  had  in  her  possession  she  knew  you 
to  be  an  Indian  girl — your  mother  a  squaw,  your  father  a 
white  trader — " 

Flora  started  suddenly  to  her  feet,  her  face  deathly  pale, 
and  her  whole  frame  trembling  with  violent  emotion. 

"  I  told  you  that  you  would  recoil  from  me,  but  it  is  not 
time  to  hate  me  fully  yet.  Come  and  sit  down,  that  I  may 
feel  you  near  me,  for  I  must  finish  now." 

Flora  obeyed,  and  she  proceeded : 

"You  can  readily  guess  the  name  of  my  visitor,  who 
could  have  been  no  other  than  Lena  Edwards.  This  in- 
formation had  not  the  effect  of  altering  my  plans,  save  as 
I  hoped  thereby  to  further  them.  Mr.  Fenn  certainly  would 
not  love  an  Indian  girl,  and  once  more  the  coast  would  be 
clear.  Now  you  hate  me?"  she  said,  with  bitterness,  as 
she  felt  the  hand  upon  her  lap  suddenly  tremble. 

"No,"  replied  Flora;  "I  do  not  hate  you;  I  was  only 
wondering." 

Not  seeming  to  notice  the  interruption,  Mrs.  Lane  con- 
tinued: 

"  Of  course  I  told  him,  when,  much  to  my  chagrin,  he 
said,  quickly,  *  I  have  heard  the  same  story  before,  but  I  do 
not  believe  it.  I  am  not  prepared,'  he  continued,  '  to  say 
that  Miss  Lena  is  willfully  in  error  in  regard  to  it,  but  the 
source  of  her  information  cannot  be  reliable,  and  never 
until  I  hear  it  from  Miss  Flora's  own  lips  will  I  believe  so 
base  a  slander.'  He  spoke  emphatically,  and  I  knew  that 
on  that  point  I  had  failed.  When,  notwithstanding  all  my 
kindness,  you  refused  to  remain  with  me,  then  came  my 
cruel  injustice — my  revenge.  I  knew  you  had  not  stolen 
that  brooch,  but  it  could  not  be  found.  I  had  no  other 
means  of  rsvehge.  The  rest  you  know.  Before  you  is  the 
wreck  of  a  once  beautiful,  willful,  ambitious  woman ;  1  am 


THE  CONFESSION.  261 

helpless  now.  The  serpent  is  deprived  of  its  fangs.  Yet 
spurn  me  if  you  will;  my  cup  is  full.  How  can  it  be 
worse,  if  it  overflows  ?" 

Her  head  sank  heavily  upon  her  hand,  and  she  remained 
silent  a  long  time. 

Flora  attempted  to  console  her  by  breathing  into  her  e,  r 
the  vow  she  had  taken  to  love  her  still;  then  came  t  j 
eweet  promise  of  peace  and  forgiveness  that  she  so  loveu. 
Yet  Mrs.  Lane  moved  not. 

"  You  may  leave  me  now,"  she  said,  at  last,  without  rais- 
ing her  head.  "Call  again  to-morrow."  Her  voice  was 
steady  and  chilling,  and  Flora  arose  to  obey. 

She  did  not  notice,  as  she  entered  the  street,  that  the  sun 
had  long  since  set  and  twilight  was  deepening  about  her, 
for  her  thoughts  were  busy. 

"  He  knew  it,  yet  did  not  believe  it,  till  my  own  lipa 
confirmed  it." 

This,  then,  was  the  reason  that  he  so  soon  recovered 
from  the  shock. 

"  Yes,  two  years  ago,  on  the  night  of  the  party  at  Mrs. 
Edwards',  I  am  sure  I  heard  those  hateful  words.  Yet  he 
loved  me  I  How  strange !  I  am  spre  I  never  could  have 
loved  him  did  the  red  man's  blood  course  in  his  veins. 
No,  no!  Wehegan,  the  Indian  warrior,  was  bold,  yet  I 
never  loved  him.  From  what  a  fate  the  kind-hearted  Ed- 
garton  saved  me!  Yet  why  not?  Why  should  I  despise 
my  lineage,  and  cling  with  more  tenacity  to  a  people  who 
are  only  in  part  my  own?  Edgarton  was  wrong.  The 
white  race  spurns  half  of  my  nature — yes,  all,  since  th< 
people  among  whom  I  was  born  would  have  loved  and 
honored  me.  Oh,  Edgarton,  noble  Edgarton,  how  soon 
your  own  heart  undeceived  you !" 

Thus  soliloquizing,  she  had  reached  the  little  gate  and 
Btood  at  the  door.  The  night-shades  clustered  thickly  about 
the  humble  cottage,  and  for  the  first  time  she  awoke  to  the 
consciousness  that  she  was  late.  As  she  gained  the  door 


262  THE  CONFESSION. 

she  felt  her  dress  suddenly  grasped  and  held  by  an  unseen 
hand.  With  a  faint  cry,  Bhe  sprang  forward ;  but  finding 
herself  unable  to  effect  her  release,  and  her  vision  becom- 
ing more  adapted  to  the  darkness  that  surrounded  her,  she 
turned  to  behold  a  crouching  form  beneath  the  lilac  bush 
with  bowed  head  resting  upon  her  knees,  and  the  whole 
figure  indicative  of  the  deepest  despondency.  One  hand, 
slightly  extended,  was  holding  with  eagerness  a  portion  of 
Flora's  dress.  Yet  the  form  moved  not,  nor  did  a  sound 
escape  the  lips  of  the  abject  figure. 

"Who  are  you,"  asked  Flora,  in  alarm,  "and  what  are 
you  doing  here  ?  Let  me  go,"  she  pleaded,  "  or  speak  to 
me.  Tell  me  who  you  are." 

There  was  pity  in  her  tones  now,  for  her  alarm  had  gone, 
fled  before  the  statue-like  figure,  so  motionless,  so  much  the 
semblance  of  unutterable  despair. 

"  It  is  I,  Miss  Flora,"  at  last  said  a  plaintive  voice,  yet 
the  figure  moved  not,  and  the  head  still  rested  upon  the 
knees. 

"  Clara  I  Is  it  you,  Clara  ?"  asked  Flora,  tenderly,  placing 
her  hand  upon  the  shoulders  of  the  girl. 

"  Yes,  Miss  Flora ;  I  was  going  up  to  my  mother's  grave, 
but  I  knew  you  would  let  me  stay  with  you." 

"Why  are  you  here,  poor  child?"  and  she  raised  the 
drooping  head  gently  from  its  recumbent  posture. 

"  Because  I  will  not  stay  with  Mrs.  Day,"  she  answered, 
rising  to  her  feet.  "  My  mother  would  not  let  me  stay  if 
ehe  could  speak  to  me,  and  I  will  not — no,  I  will  not.  She 
is  cruel,  and  I  will  not  love  her.  I'll  never  speak  to  her 
e  gain,  never." 

Flora  took  her  kindly  by  the  hand,  and  led  her  into  the 
house.  It  was  not  the  first  time  that  she  had  witnessed 
manifestations  of  an  unfavorable  temper  in  the  child  over 
whom  she  exercised  a  partial  superintendence ;  and  know- 
ing that  the  present  ebullition  arose  from  slight  cause,  she 
wisely  concluded  to  let  the  matter  rest  for  the  present. 


THE  CONFESSION.  263 

Uncle  Billy  had  arrived  during  her  absence,  and  his 
hearty  words  greeted  her  as  she  entered : 

*'  How  now,  shipmate  ?  Pretty  as  ever,  I  see.  But  what 
little  craft  have  you  got  in  tow  now  ?" 

There  was  something  exhilarating  in  the  tones  of  Un^le 
Billy's  voice  that  never  failed  to  have  a  decided  effect  upon 
each  inmate  of  his  "  little  workhouse,"  as  he  termed  their 
home.  Mrs.  Clark  was  sitting  in  her  easy-chair,  looking 
much  better  than  she  had  for  many  weeks.  Lura  was 
looking  happy  and  contented,  although  the  tea  was  nearly 
spoiled  by  reason  of  the  protracted  waiting.  Uncle  Billy, 
however,  pertinaciously  refused  to  eat  a  morsel  until  the 
round  table  was  filled,  and  Flora  soon  forgot  her  manifold 
annoyances  and  joined  pleasantly  in  the  hilarity  of  the 
hour.  A  little  changing  of  the  plates  and  a  little  closer 
placing  of  the  chairs  made  room  for  the  new-comer,  and 
soon  all  were  busy,  laughing  and  discussing  the  delicacies 
before  them,  some  of  which  had  that  day  arrived  on  board 
the  Lady  Ann. 

At  last  Uncle  Billy  dropped  his  knife  and  fork,  and  rais- 
ing his- large  shaggy  eyebrows,  looked  intently  into  the  face 
of  the  little  girl,  who  sat  opposite  to  him. 

"  What  on  airth  can  you  be  looking  at,  brother  ?"  at  last 
asked  Mrs.  Clark,  who  had  been  intently  eyeing  him.  "  You 
haven't  moved  your  gaze  for  five  minutes,  and  these  straw- 
berries are  'most  gone." 

"Well,  ain't  there  more?  What's  the  use  of  plaguing 
me  ?  Don't  it  say  somewhere  in  that  big  book  which  used 
to  lie  always  upon  the  table  in  the  corner,  '  I  have  fish  to 
fry  that  ye  know  not  of '  ?  Perhaps  not  in  just  those  words, 
but  that's  the  sense  of  it." 

" '  I  have  meat  to  eat,' "  suggested  Mrs.  Clark,  in  a  dis- 
turbed manner. 

"  Well,  as  I  was  going  to  say,"  chimed  in  Uncle  Billy, 
"there  is  something  in  that  face  over  there  which  keeps 
telling  me  of  long  voyages  over  salt  water,  terrible  howling 


264  THE  CONFESSION. 

gales,  tattered  brown  sails,  and  curled  lips  far  back  some- 
where, can't  just  say  where,"  he  continued,  musingly. 
"  Little  girl,  what's  your  name  ?"  he  asked,  abruptly. 

"  Clara  Saunders,  sir,"  was  the  timid  reply. 

"  Saunders  ?  Saunders  ?  I  never  knew  any  Saunders,  yet 
by  Jove !  I've  seen  that  face.  Never  mind ;  I'll  be  cruising 
around  among  the  old  sails  and  rigging  of  memory.  I'll 
find  it.  Lura,  let's  finish  that  box  of  berries ;  Tin  terribly 
afraid  they  won't  keep." 

"  Only  one  hour  to  dress,"  suggested  Lura,  as  Flora  arose 
from  the  table. 

"  Plenty  of  time ;  fifteen  minutes  will  answer  my  purpose 
fully." 

"With  my  assistance,"  replied  Lura,  and  the  two  girls 
left  the  room. 

"  Permit  me  to  adorn  you,"  said  Lura,  after  the  blue  silk 
had  been  properly  arranged;  and  reaching  down  to  the 
bottom  of  Flora's  trunk,  she  succeeded  in  bringing  to  light 
a  hidden  box  containing  a  full  set  of  pearls,  one  of  Edgar- 
ton's  last  gifts  before  he  said  farewell  for  ever.  "These 
looked  so  pretty  once,  worn  in  among  your  dark  curls ;  and 
you  know  he  used  to  say  I  exhibited  great  skill  in  this  de- 
partment." 

A  moan  of  anguish  was  in  Flora's  heart,  but  she  sup- 
pressed it,  and  said,  calmly, 

"  Never,  Lura ;  my  present  position  as  a  poor  music 
teacher  and  charity  pupil  does  not  call  for  costly  pearls 
with  which  to  mock  my  poverty  and  give  a  false  impres- 
sion to  the  world.  No,  no ;  put  them  back  again.  This 
simple  pin  shall  be  my  only  ornament." 

Lura  looked  disappointed  and  vexed,  but  obeyed  without 
a  word. 

Mattie,  according  to  previous  arrangement,  received  Flora 
in  the  dressing-room,  but  whispered  in  her  ear  before  they 
went  into  the  parlor  that  her  stately  sister  had  arrived  a 


THE  CONFESSION.  265 

few  hours  before  with  a  select  party  of  friends,  and  was  ter- 
ribly cross  because  Mr.  Fenn  had  left  the  city. 

"  She  had  been  anticipating  the  recall  of  her  old  loyer  at 
this  evening's  entertainment.  The  season  being  over,  this 
was  her  last  chance.  I  pity  her ;  don't  you  ?  But  I  sup- 
pose you  know  no  more  about  it  than  I — perhaps  not  as 
much,  as  I  have. had  the  benefit  of  a  series  of  observar 
tions ;"  and  the  lively  girl  rattled  on  while  Flora  was  arrang- 
ing her  slightly  disordered  curls  without  hearing  a  word  of 
what  she  was  saying,  heartily  wishing  all  the  time  that  she 
were  safely  back  in  her  quiet  home. 

"Whom  under  the  sun  have  you  picked  up  there?" 
asked  the  stately  Miss  Goodale  of  her  sister,  who,  after  hav- 
ing introduced  Flora  to  a  circle  of  her  particular  friends, 
had  left  her  and  come  around  where  she  was  standing. 

Mattie's  face  wore  an  expressive  smile,  but  she  did  not 
deign  to  answer. 

"  Very  pretty,  isn't  she,  Mr.  Boyd  ?"  she  asked,  turning 
to  a  gentleman  near. 

"  Very  pretty,"  he  answered.  "  I  have  met  her  before — 
have  seen  her  often  in  the  street.  It  is  a  face  one  cannot 
be  mistaken  in,"  he  added,  as  if  fearing  some  one  might 
doubt  his  assertion. 

But  the  fair  hostess  of  the  evening  had  no  occasion  to  do 
so ;  and  with  another  peculiar  smile,  which  those  who  knew 
her  well  could  readily  interpret,  she  hurried  away. 

**  A  most  provoking  child,"  remarked  her  sister,  looking 
angrily  after  her.  "  Some  strange  freak  she  has  taken  into 
her  head,  inviting  that  nobody  here  to-night.  I  declare, 
I  could  cry  with  vexation." 

"She  looks  uncomfortable,"  suggested  her  companion, 
*  I  dare  say  she  wishes  herself  out  of  this  as  much  as  you 
do." 

"  It  would  be  a  consolation,  were  I  sure  that  she  does  not 
enjoy  it.  No  doubt  it  is  the  first  time  she  ever  saw  any 
thing  but  a  rag  carpet." 


266  THE  CONFESSION. 

It  was  true  that  Flora  was  feeling  as  uncomfortable  as 
even  Miss  Kate  could  desire,  but  the  lively,  cheering  words 
of  her  friend,  who  was  often  near  her,  helped  to  drive  away 
her  embarrassment  and  arouse  her  conversational  powers, 
which  were  naturally  very  brilliant.  In  a  short  time  she 
had  drawn  about  her  a  lively  company  of  both  sexes,  who 
were  richly  enjoying  her  dissertations  upon  her  pet  subjects, 
music  and  flowers. 

"  You  play,  of  course  ?"  remarked  one  of  her  compan- 
ions. "  No  one  could  be  such  a  theorist  on  sweet  sounds 
without  knowing  how  to  produce  them." 

Flora  blushed  deeply.  She  had  really  forgotten  the  part 
which  she  was  expected  to  take  in  the  entertainment. 
The  company,  instead  of  being  composed  of  a  few  select 
friends,  as  it  had  been  represented  to  her,  was  a  large,  bril- 
liant collection  from  the  most  fashionable  circles.  She 
could  not  most  certainly  place  herself  conspicuously  before 
them.  Mattie  would  never  expect  it  or  ask  it. 

"That  is  a  summary  conclusion  from  slight  premises, 
truly,"  she  answered,  quietly.  "  I  do  play  a  little  after  the 
fashion  of  my  own  simple  theories  for  my  own  especial 
amusement,"  she  might  have  added  "  and  profit,"  but  she 
did  not  in  words. 

"  Ah !  there  is  Miss  Kate  just  seated  at  the  piano,"  re- 
marked another.  "  She  is  a  fine  singer." 

Flora  thought  so  too,  as  the  deep,  full  voice  fell  upon  her 
ear.  But  more  than  half  the  melody  was  lost  in  the  gene- 
ral hum  which  seemed  to  fill  the  room.  All  were  evidently 
enjoying  the  singing,  for  in  the  occasional  hush  of  conver- 
sation many  complimentary  remarks  could  be  heard  regard- 
ing it.  The  unsophisticated  Flora,  however,  could  not 
readily  explain  the  apparent  contradiction.  If  they  were 
BO  filled  with  admiration,  so  unwilling  that  she  should  leave 
the  instrument,  why  did  they  not  listen  to  her? 

Another  and  another  followed,  when  Flora  noticed  for  the 
first  time  that  Mattie  was  standing  beside  her. 


THE  CONFESSION.  267 

"Now  for  my  favorite  song,"  she  whispered,  bending  her 
head  down  to  Flora's  ear,  as  the  last  performer  glided  grace- 
fully away. 

Mr.  Marvin  offered  his  arm  to  escort  her,  as  he  whis- 
pered, "  We  shall  be  so  very  happy." 

"  Do  excuse  me,"  pleaded  Flora.  "  Indeed,  indeed — "  She 
had  almost  said,  "  I  am  not  well,"  but  Mattie's  beseeching 
look  brought  back  the  color  to  her  lips  and  cheeks,  and 
with  trembling  limbs  and  a  choking,  suffocating  feeling,  she 
Buffered  herself  to  be  led  away.  Mattie  was  beside  her ; 
with  an  encouraging  smile  and  pleasantly  turned  words,  she 
9  trengthened  her  for  the  effort. 

Flora  touched  the  key  lightly  by  way  of  prelude,  then 
attempted  to  commence  the  song  designated  by  her  friend. 
But  her  voice  choked ;  not  a  sound  was  heard.  A  low  tit- 
ter passed  around  the  immediate  circle,  but  a  lively  repar- 
tee from  Mattie  turned  the  laugh  in  another  direction,  and 
hid  from  general  observation  her  friend's  embarrassment. 
In  another  moment  a  voice  clear  and  lute-like  rose  above 
the  warbler's  head  and  silenced  every  other  sound. 

Not  a  laugh,  not  a  word,  was  audible,  as  the  sweetly  dis- 
tinct tones  rose  and  fell  in  tuneful  cadence,  or  floated  in 
mid  air  with  one  prolonged  trill,  then  fell  away  in  softer, 
purer  tones,  as  the  feathered  songster  bears  away  his  even- 
ing song  to  hush  its  lingering  melody  in  the  distant  grove. 

The  voice  was  still,  and  a  subdued  murmur  of  applause 
succeeded.     Flora,  raising  her  eyes,  beheld  for  the  first  time 
that  evening  a  gentleman  in  black,  wearing  a  heavy  gold 
fob-chain,  standing  opposite  to  her.     He  was  looking  ; 
her,  and  for  a  moment  their  eyes  met. 

"Just  one  more,"  pleaded  several  voices.  But  the  hut 
blood  rushed  back  to  her  heart,  as  a  voice  close  behind  her 
reached  her  ear : 

"  I  have  heard  for  a  fact  that  she  is  half  Indian ;  would 
you  believe  it?"  "She  must  have  learned  that  song  in  her 
native  woodg,"  said  another.  "It  was  as  beautiful  as  her- 


268  THE  CONFESSION. 

eelf,"  remarked  still  another.  Flora  heard  no  more.  Mr. 
Marvin's  arm  was  proffered  her,  and  she  moved  away. 
Shortly  afterward  the  kind  hostess  yielded  to  her  earnest 
entreaties,  and  at  an  early  hour  she  was  sent  home,  as  she 
came,  in  the  Goodales'  private  carriage. 

"  Everybody  knows  it,"  she  said  to  herself,  when  again 
alone.  "  He  never  will — he  never  shall — marry  a  poor 
despised  Indian  girl.  Oh,  what  a  wretched  fate  is  mine ! 
If  I  had  the  power,  I  would  return  this  very  night  to  the 
only  people  that  will  deem  my  love  worthy,  and  die  among 
them." 

Little  Clara  was  not  asleep  when  she  returned,  and  the 
slender  arms  that  were  entwined  caressingly  about  her  as 
her  head  sunk  upon  the  pillow  solaced  and  comforted  her. 
It  was  sweet  to  feel,  when  weary  and  perplexed  with  life's 
burdens,  often  too  heavy  and  grievous  to  be  borne,  that 
there  is  somewhere  among  the  great  multitude  of  human 
hearts  similarly  throbbing  one  that  contains  for  us  a  sooth- 
ing drop  of  affection.  But  when  that  heart  comes  and 
tenders  its  simple  gift  and  with  answering  love  applies  it  to 
the  sinking  one,  the  burden  grows  lighter  and  new  strength 
is  imparted  to  the  soul,  new  zeal,  new  determinations. 

"Do  you  love  me?" asked  Flora,  as  she  returned  the  fond 
caress. 

"  Love  you  ?"  she  replied,  earnestly.  "  Yes,  I  love  you 
more  than  all  the  rest  of  the  world." 

"  Then  will  you  not,  for  my  sake,  return  to  little  Minnie, 
be  her  true  and  constant  friend ;  and  when  anything  per- 
plexes you,  think,  '  Flora  has  many  things  to  make  her  un- 
happy as  well  as  I,  and  I  will  be  very  patient'?  Will  you, 
Clara?" 

"  I  don't  know,  Miss  Flora.  I  hate  Mrs.  Day ;  she  does 
not  speak  kindly  to  me,  and  never  smiles  on  me,  as  my 
mother  used  to  do ;  and  when  Minnie  cries,  she  says  I  do 
not  take  care  of  her.  No,  no,  Miss  Flora.  I  hate  her;  I 
cannot  go  back.  I  love  you,  but  I  hate  Mrs.  Day." 


THE  CONFESSION.  269 

A  long  time  did  Flora  talk  to  her  of  the  future  through 
which  she  must  pass,  of  the  patience  and  forbearance  neces- 
sary to  bring  her  happily  through  the  many  trials  life  had 
in  store  for  her,  and  finally  of  the  great  Source  from  whom 
all  blessings  must  be  obtained  which  will  make  us  useful 
and  good. 

4i  Everybody  loves  you,"  urged  Clara. 

"  Oh  no ;  very  few  love  me,  Clara.  We  must  learn  our 
lessons  together.  Will  you  not  begin  to-night,  that  I  may 
not  always  feel  that  I  am  struggling  alone  ?" 

Clara  sighed  deeply.  "  I  do  not  want  to  be  any  better 
than  you  are  now,"  she  replied,  meekly ;  "  but  I  will  think 
of  it  till  morning ;"  and  with  a  good-night  kiss,  she  turned 
upon  her  pillow  as  if  to  sleep. 

In  the  morning,  without  a  hesitating  word,  she  promised 
to  return  to  little  Minnie  and  be  very  good,  very  patient, 
and  the  lesson  was  never  forgotten. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 
AT  SEA  AND  IN  PORT. 

"  "\7~OU  were  most  insufferably  stupid  in  your  selection 

JL  of  books,"  said  Lena  Edwards  to  her  brother  the 
third  morning  of  their  voyage  out  from  New  York. 

All  the  scenes  of  interest  and  amusement  on  board  the 
great  vessel  were  completely  exhausted,  and  the  restless 
young  lady  looked  out  upon  the  boundless  waters  over 
which  they  were  passing  with  a  peevish,  discontented  look. 
A  book  was  lying  upon  her  lap,  which  had  been  opened 
but  a  short  time  when  she  pronounced  it  a  bore,  and  closed 
it  with  a  look  of  disgust  upon  her  pretty  face. 

41  Here  is  one  that  you  will  perhaps  like  better,"  said  her 
brother,  at  the  same  time  handing  her  a  neatly-bound 
volume. 

"'Thorny  Way,'"  she  said,  pettishly,  grasping  it  and 
glancing  at  its  title.  "Selfish  as  usual — kept  me  poring 
over  this  dry  trash  while  you  were  feasting  on  unquestion- 
able delicacies.  ' The  gem  of  the  present  age,'"  she  contin- 
ued, running  her  eye  over  the  "Notices  of  the  press,"  which 
accompanied  it,  "'By  one  who  knows  how  to  pity  the 
lonely  traveler,  footsore  and  weary.  Having  just  traveled 
life's  thorny  way,  the  author  would  scatter  over  the  path 
where  others  may  follow  a  few  hardy,  unpretending  flowers 
to  cheer  them  in  such  a  dreary  pilgrimage.' " 

"There  is  something  about  that  book,"  remarked  the 

brother,  as  Lena  turned  over  the  leaves,  "  that  makes  me 

feel  a  little  uncomfortable.     I  confess  I  could  not  help 

thinking  of  poor  Phelura  all  the  way  through  it,  particu- 

m 


AT  SEA  AND  IN  PORT.  271 

larly  in  the  closing  chapters.  Do  you  think  she  was  always 
treated  rightly  in  our  family  ?"  he  asked,  after  a  pause,  at 
the  same  time  placing  his  long,  taper  fingers  over  the  page 
upon  which  his  sister  was  intently  gazing. 

"  Better  than  she  has  treated  herself  since  she  left  us,  I 
have  no  doubt,"  was  the  pettish  reply.  "  I  hope,  however, 
•that  this  will  prove  interesting.  Eighteen  days  more  in 
euch  a  prison  as  this  would  'almost  make  me  enjoy  a  ship- 
wreck, or  anything  which  would  create  an  excitement." 

u  Why  did  you  become  so  soon  fatigued  at  your  favorite 
game  of  whist  last  evening?  See,  father  is  enjoying  it 
hugely  at  this  moment  with  his  new-found  friends,  and 
mother  looks  unusually  contented  in  that  group  of  ma- 
tronly ladies." 

Lena  was  not  listening  to  her  brother's  conversation ;  and 
with  a  demonstration  of  his  usual  fondness  for  his  petted 
goatee,  he  walked  slowly  and  with  measured  steps  to  the 
other  end  of  the  saloon,  where  the  two  daughters  of  the 
Honorable  Theodore  Chapin  were  laughing  and  chatting 
the  morning  away  over  their  embroidery. 

It  was  not  until  a  late  hour  that  Lena  closed  the  book,  which 
had  long  held  her  with  its  fascinating  spell,  and  with  some- 
thing like  remorse  weighing  heavily  upon  her  spirits  retired 
to  her  state-room.  The  day  had  been  bright  and  beautiful. 
Soft  breezes  had  fanned  the  dreamy  loungers  upon  the  deck 
or  winged  themselves  cheerily  through  the  open  windows 
of  the  gay  saloon  with  their  refreshing  coolness.  But  the 
sun  had  sunk  behind  a  mountain  of  clouds,  and  the  sky 
was  dark  and  portentous.  An  impenetrable  gloom  mean- 
while settled  down  around  the  gallant  ship,  which  was 
ploughing  recklessly  in  the  trough  of  the  gradually-increas- 
ing billows. 

Lena  sat  down  by  the  open  window  and  listened  to  the 
desolate  roaring  of  the  waves,  gazing  out  listlessly  into  the 
darkness.  The  wind  howled  dolorously,  and  the  sound  of 
monotonous  footsteps  mingled  in  the  chorus.  A  low  knock 


272  AT  SEA  AND  IN  PORT. 

was  heard  upon  the  door,  and  Lena,  slowly  rising,  opened  it 
to  admit  her  mother. 

"  Do  you  know  that  there  is  to  be  a  heavy  gale — a  storm 
at  sea  ?"  she  said,  almost  wildly,  as  she  entered. 

"  It  looks  very  much  like  it,"  said  Lena,  calmly. 

"  It  is  dreadful.  Ah,  my  child !  a  fearful  foreboding  haa 
taken  possession  of  me.  I  am  sure  that  something  terrible 
is  to  happen  to  us." 

"To  punish  us  for  our  transgressions?"  Lena  replied,  with 
face  calm  and  placid  as  before.  "To  tell  you  the  truth, 
mother,  my  opinion  is  that  we  deserve  it.  What  a  game 
we  have  been  playing !  And  the  thought  of  a  discovery  is 
to  me  this  moment  more  appalling  than  the  approaching 
Btorm  which  you  seem  to  dread  so  much." 

"  We  have  done  nothing  so  terribly  bad,  I  am  sure,"  re- 
plied her  mother,  with  great  emotion — "  nothing  but  what 
Lady  Anna  would  approve." 

"  Oh,  mother,  I  can  see  nothing  good  that  I  have  done  in 
my  whole  life,"  cried  Lena,  passionately.  "  Poor  sister ! 
We — yes,  we — heaped  heavy  burdens  upon  her;  and  when 
she  was  unable  longer  to  bear  them,  we  permitted  her  with- 
out a  struggle  to  go  forth  into  the  world  alone  and  unpro- 
tected." 

A  loud  peal  of  thunder  burst  immediately  over  them  with 
a  tremendous  crash,  and  with  a  shriek  Lena  threw  herself 
upon  the  couch  and  buried  her  face  in  the  pillow,  white 
her  mother,  pale  and  trembling,  stood  leaning  heavily 
against  the  side  of  the  state-room. 

Another  knock,  loud  and  imperious,  was  heard  upon  the 
door,  and  still  another,  before  the  affrighted  mother  could 
command  strength  to  open  it. 

"Don't  be  frightened,  Lena,"  exclaimed  her  brother,  as 
he  entered.  "The  captain  says  there  is  no  danger  if  he 
meets  with  no  impediment,  but  the  ship  is  flying  at  a  rapid 
rate,  and  it  is  so  dark  that  nothing  can  be  seen  ahead." 


AT  SEA  AND  IN  PORT.  273 

Lena  did  not  move  or  show  any  signs  of  consciousness, 
but  the  mother  breathed  more  freely. 

"  Lena  is  very  much  frightened,"  she  said,  quite  calmly, 
as  her  son  ceased  speaking,  "  but  she  will  get  over  it." 

Another  flash,  and  again  the  thunders  rolled  and  lever- 
berated  through  the  vaulted  sky,  sending  terror  and  dismay 
to  many  a  throbbing  heart  on  board  of  that  tempest-tossed 
ship,  as  it  battled  bravely  and  victoriously  with  each  oppos- 
ing billow.  An  hour  passed.  Who  that  has  not  been  in  a 
similar  position  can  conceive  of  the  mountain  of  self-re- 
proaches and  silent  heart-communings  which  can  be  com- 
pressed into  that  apparently  sjiort  space  of  time,  an  hour  ? 

It  was  past  midnight.  The  thunders  still  muttered  heav- 
ily in  the  distance,  while  the  lightnings  flashed  about  the 
masts  and  the  rain  fell  heavily  upon  the  deck.  Fears  were 
subsiding  in  many  timid  hearts,  and  weariness  led  some  to 
seek  repose.  Even  Lena  could  look  upon  the  past  with  a 
less  accusing  conscience,  and  her  poor  sister's  wrongs  ap- 
peared of  less  magnitude,  as  Nature's  frowns  were  clearing 
away. 

The  mother  and  daughter  were  conversing  upon  their 
future  plans,  and  wondering  if,  after  all,  they  had  succeeded 
in  keeping  everything  from  one  member  of  the  family  which 
it  would  be  improper  for  him  to  communicate;  for,  as  Lena 
suggested,  "  if  they  inquire  of  father  about  anything,  he  will 
tell  them  the  truth,  and  perhaps  spoil  the  whole." 

When,  lo !  a  crash  which  shook  the  noble  ship  and  caused 
it  for  a  moment  to  reel,  then  sway  heavily  backward  into 
its  former  course,  sent  redoubled  terror  to  every  heart  on 
board,  and  shriek  after  shriek  was  heard  from  every  side. 
The  state-room  doors  were  thrown  open,  and  gentlemen 
came  hurrying  out  to  learn  the  cause  of  such  an  unusual 
sensation,  while  the  ladies  flocked  together  in  the  saloon 
with  lips  and  cheeks  of  ashy  hue  to  learn  what  consolation, 
if  any,  could  be  afforded. 

"  Quick !  man  the  pumps !"  shouted  a  voice  which  could 


274  AT  SEA  AND  IN  PORT. 

be  distinctly  heard  above  the  general  confusion.  "  Man  the 
pumps,  or  we  are  lost  1" 

In  the  darkness  the  vessel  had  encountered  a  heavily- 
laden  merchant  ship  which  was  lying  to  until  the  storm 
should  have  passed,  and  the  collision  was  likely  to  prove 
fatal  to  all  on  board. 

"  Oh,  mother,"  exclaimed  Lena,  with  an  almost  frenzied 
expression,  "  God  will  punish  us !  I  cannot  die,  mother ! 
Can  you  not  pray?  Why  did  you  not  teach  me  to  be  good, 
honorable  and  true,  instead  of  the  vile  hypocrite  which  I 
am?" 

But  the  mother  moved  not,  and  her  pale  face  wore  a  rigid 
expression,  as  though  Death  had  already  commenced  his 
terrible  work. 

"O  Godl"  cried  Lena,  with  uplifted  hands,  "I  have  heard 
that  thou  couldst  pity!  Save,  oh  save,  and  atonement  shall 
be  fully  offered  for  the  past,  and  my  future  days  shall  be 
consecrated  to  thee !" 

"  We  are  lost !"  cried  a  voice  close  to  her  elbow ;  "  the 
leaks  are  too  large  ;  the  pumps  cannot  save  us !"  and  as  the 
water  came  dashing  in  below,  a  rush  was  made  for  the 
decks. 

"  Come,  sister,  our  only  hope  now  is  the  life-boats.  See  1 
father  and  mother  have  both  gone ;  will  you  not  go  ?" 

"  Tell  our  poor  sister  I  died  repenting  all  the  wrongs  I 
have  done  her !  And  Flora — " 

What  could  she  say  to  Flora?  Nothing  in  that  mo- 
ment ;  and  taking  the  arm  of  her  brother,  she  was  led,  or 
almost  carried,  to  the  deck. 

What  a  scene  was  here!  Children  screaming,  clinging 
frantically  to  their  mothers,  women  wringing  their  hands, 
moaning  in  their  despair,  some  audibly  praying,  othere. 
silently  bowing  before  the  God  of  their  fathers,  while 
all  around  was  confusion  and  hurrying  to  and  fro,  the 
loud  shouting  of  the  captain  and  the  answering  words 
of  the  crew,  as  they  sounded  through  the  darkness,  while 


AT  SEA  AND  IN  PORT.  275 

the  boats  were  lowering  and  the  pumps  working  vigorously 
for  the  lives  of  nearly  two  hundred  human  beings,  who 
would  soon  find  a  watery  grave,  if  their  labors  ceased. 

In  a  short  time  the  boats  were  ready. 

"Pass  the  women  and  children!"  shouted  the  captain, 
and  one  by  one  they  were  handed  below.  Cheering  words 
were  passed  from  mouth  to  mouth,  as  the  boats  were  filled, 
when  the  shout,  "A  man  overboard!"  sent  the  blood  rush- 
ing back  to  every  heart.  Efforts  were  made  for  his  rescue, 
but  in  vain.  In  the  darkness  no  one  could  tell  who  it  was. 
Wives  called  upon  their  husbands,  sisters  upon  their  broth- 
ers, but  the  boats  were  separating,  and  great  haste  was  made 
to  escape  the  sinking  vessel. 

Oh,  how  drearily  the  hours  rolled  away !  How  slowly 
night  unfolded  back  her  curtains  and  let  in  the  blissful 
light  of  morning !  But  the  glorious  light  at  last  came, 
gradually,  steadily,  up  from  the  east,  spreading  far  and 
wide  her  golden  pinions,  and  the  great  world  opened  its 
slumbering  eye*,  smiled  and  called  it  day. 

There  were  no  le,  however,  who  greeted  it  more  joyfully 
than  the  disheartened  occupants  of  those  open  boats  which 
were  floating,  they  knew  not  whither,  out  upon  the  tracjt- 
less  ocean.  They  had  separated  in  the  darkness,  but  aa 
Boon  as  it  was  light,  they  came  together  again,  and  in  a  few 
moments  the  name  of  one  was  called  who  would  never 
again  respond  on  earth.  Mr.  Edwards  had  found  his  rest- 
ing-place down  in  the  fathomless  chambers  of  the  great 
deep.  All  others  that  were  on  board  the  ill-fated  vessel 
were  saved.  But  a  deep  gloom  seized  the  whole  party,  as 
once  more  the  frail  boats  moved  forward,  anxiously  hoping 
to  find  some  escape  from  their  perilous  position. 

Lena  and  her  mother  sat  crouched  together,  seemingly 
unconscious  of  each  other,  and  the  words  of  sympathy 
which  were  spoken  in  their  hearing,  moodily  meditating 
upon  their  present  position  and  the  great  danger  which  had 
befallen  them.  All  had  been  lost— the  elegant  wardrobe 


276  AT  SEA  AND  JN  PORT. 

wnich  it  had  taken  months  to  collect,  the  jewels,  the 
bright  anticipations  which  had  been  associated  with  each, 
all  were  gone.  Mingling  with  this  was  the  sad,  sad  grief 
of  their  bereavement.  The  husband  and  father,  unsocial 
and  ascetic  as  he  often  was;  and  much  as  he  seemed  in  the 
way  of  their  future  plans — it  was  very  sad  to  think  of  him 
as  cold  and  lifeless  for  ever,  and  long-slumbering  affections 
were  awakened  and  tears  of  bitter  sorrow  were  shed  in 
memory  of  the  departed  one. 

All  day  long  the  frail  boats  floated  away  upon  the  broad 
waters,  bearing  their  helpless  freight,  so  full  of  loneliness 
and  woe.  Then  the  night  came  down  upon  them,  and  the 
small  specks  which  had  been  watched  all  day  with  strained 
vision,  as  if  linked  to  them  by  some  fraternal  tie,  were  lost 
from  sight ;  and  Lena  once  more  from  the  fullness  of  her 
heart  prayed  earnestly  for  a  guiding  hand  to  lead  them 
safely  through  their  present  perils,  repeating  again  and 
again  her  vows  of  renunciation  of  all  the  pure  eyes  of  Je- 
hovah might  see  erring  in  her,  and  her  deep  contrition  for 
all  her  past  misdeeds. 

Thus  the  hours  of  another  long,  dreary  night  with  snail- 
like  pace  crept  away.  At  daybreak — thrice  welcome  sight ! 
— a  large  sailing-vessel  was  seen  approaching  them.  New 
life  seemed  suddenly  breathed  into  every  heart  in  the  boats. 
Hats  and  handkerchiefs  were  waved  high  in  the  air,  while 
shouts  of  rejoicing  rang  lustily  forth,  and  were  lost  in  the 
clear  morning  breeze  that  was  blowing  bracingly  around  them. 

About  noon  all  present  were  on  board  the  Constitution, 
when  they  then  ascertained  that  only  one  other  boat-load 
had  been  rescued  before  them,  in  which  number  Edgar 
Edwards  was  not  to  be  found.  For  many  hours  the  vessel 
cruised  around  in  that  vicinity,  hoping  to  recover  more  of 
the  missing  ones,  but  as  night  came  on,  a  fresh  breeze  pro- 
pelled them  onward,  bearing  away  many  anxious,  bleeding 
hearts  whose  husbands,  fathers  or  brothers  were  thus  left 
to  their- uncertain  fate. 


CHAPTER   XXXIV. 
THE  TIE  SUNDERED. 

SOME  time  after  the  events  narrated  in  our  last  chapter, 
Uncle  Billy  sat  by  the  window  that  looked  out  into  the 
little  garden,  busily  engaged  with  his  morning  paper. 

"  Ho,  ho !"  he  exclaimed,  as  he  read  aloud :  " '  The  Arcadia, 
on  the  night  of  the  4th,  ran  into  a  heavily-laden  merchant 
vessel,  and  sank  in  a  few  hours  after.  About  half  the  pas- 
sengers were  picked  up  by  the  Constitution  ;  the  rest  are  sup- 
posed to  have  perished.'" 

Lura  was  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  room  when  he 
finished  reading,  pale  and  motionless,  but  he  did  not  notice 
her. 

"  Is  that  all  ?"  she  asked,  in  a  voice  so  hoarse  and  deep 
that  Mrs.  Clark  from  an  adjoining  room  inquired  feebly, 
"What  is  it,  my  child?" 

"  Oh,  my  dear  friend,"  exclaimed  Lura,  approaching  her 
and  throwing  her  arms  passionately  about  her  neck,  "  per- 
haps they  are  all  lost,  and  I — " 

Tears  choked  her  utterance,  and  Uncle  Billy,  seeing  the 
distress  he  had  so  unconsciously  caused,  came  forward  to 
the  rescue. 

"  No,  no,  my  poor  girl !  Don't  you  see  that  half  of  the 
passengers  were  saved  ?  And  it  is  just  as  likely  that  your 
folks  were  in  that  crowd  as  in  the  other.  We  shall  know 
more  about  it  soon,  so  don't  grieve  until  you  are  sure  yoi 
have  something  to  grieve  about.  I  tell  you  what,"  he  con- 
tinued, after  a  pause :  "  there's  enough  of  sorrow — real,  sub- 
stantial, up-and-down  sorrow— for  ue  to  cry  about,  without 
a*  jn 


278  THE  TIE  SUNDERED. 

our  running  any  risk  of  finding  out  that,  after  all,  we  wasted 
our  tears  when  there  was  no  occasion  for  it." 

Lura  felt  comforted  by  his  blunt  consolation  in  spite  of 
herself.  Perhaps  they  wtre  saved.  She  would  calm  her 
fears  and  wait.  Yet  notwithstanding  this  resolution,  a  foar- 
ful  foreboding  took  possession  of  her  spirits. 

The  sudden  shock,  however,  had  a  more  serious  effect  upon 
her  invalid  friend,  and  with  startling  rapidity  she  sank  lower 
and  lower,  until  in  the  stillness  of  the  next  midnight  hour  she 
fell  quietly  and  calmly  asleep,  to  wake  on  earth  no  more. 

The  two  girls  bathed  the  cold,  wrinkled  face  with  their 
tears.  Oh,  what  a  dear  friend  she  had  been  to  them  !  How 
Bweetly  even  now  came  up  from  the  past  not  long  remote 
those  precious  words  of  counsel  and  admonition  her  lips 
had  often  spoken !  But  they  would  speak  no  more.  Death 
had  broken  the  family  chain;  where  now  would  the  re- 
maining links  be  scattered  ? 

"Entered  port  at  last,"  said  Uncle  Billy,  laying  his 
weatherbeaten  hands  upon  the  heads  of  the  weeping  girls. 
"She  is  safely  moored,  while  we  must  blow  about  in  the 
open  sea  a  while  longer.  You  are  young,  my  girls,  and  will 
find  much  to  make  the  rough  voyage  pleasant  and  cheerful, 
but  such  as  I  often  grow  discontented,  and  the  waves  rise 
high  and  toss  us  about  so  much  because  we  find  ourselves 
alone.  It  isn't  pleasant  to  be  alone  in  a  storm,  but  poor 
old  Uncle  Billy  will  have  to  weather  it  somehow.  She  was 
the  last  I  could  call  my  own." 

Here  his  head  drooped,  and  the  two  girls  forgot  their  own 
sorrow  in  witnessing  the  grief  of  that  sturdy  man. 

"  Shall  you  love  us  no  more  ?"  asked  Lura,  placing  her 
arms  tenderly  about  his  neck.  "You  will  not  be  alone 
while  we  remain  upon  the  ocean  with  you." 

"  Perhaps  not,"  he  answered,  sorrowfully.  "  But  you  will 
lay  to  a  great  way  off,  outside  of  hailing  distance.  But  it's 
nil  right  if  I  were  only  like  her — I  mean  as  she  was,  so  sure 
about  her  compass  and  chart.  An  unseen  hand  she  felt 


THE  TIE  SUNDERED.  279 

always  guided  her,"  he  continued,  musingly ;  and  then,  as 
if  anxious  to  avoid  any  further  conversation,  he  arose  and 
left  the  room. 

The  solemn  succeeding  days  passed,  and  the  humble  cot- 
tage seemed  deserted  and  dreary.  Mrs.  Clark  was  silently 
slumbering  in  the  shade  at  the  cemetery,  Uncle  Billy  had 
wandered  restlessly  forth  no  one  knew  whither,  and  the  two 
girls,  lonely  and  sad,  returned  from  a  long  walk  and  stood 
upon  the  threshold. 

"You  dread  to  enter,"  said  Lura,  as  they  turned  and 
looked  out  upon  the  street ;  "  but  it  seems  to  me  it  will  be 
still  more  dreary  at  Mrs.  Lane's.  If  you  yield  to  her  press- 
ing invitation — demand,  I  had  almost  said — I  shall  pity  you 
every  evening  when  I  think  of  you  listening  to  her  murmur- 
ings  and  wailings." 

"  Your  pity  will  certainly  be  worth  something  in  my  un- 
pleasant position.  But  what  else  is  left  for  me  to  do  ?  To 
be  sure,  I  might  earn  my  board  by  teaching  out  of  school, 
but  this  might  be  even  harder  than  the  effort  to  make  Mrs. 
Lane  happier,  and  perhaps  do  her  good.  In  fact,  I  feel  that 
I  must  go.  A  little  more  than  a  year  remains  before  I  must 
leave  school,  and  something  seems  to  compel  me  to  pursue 
this  course  during  that  time." 

"  A  letter  for  somebody,"  Lura  remarked,  as  the  post-boy 
approached  and  looked  at  the  number  of  the  house  and  then 
at  the  bundle  he  held  in  his  hand.  "  For  you,  I  suppose," 
she  continued,  as  the  letter  was  proffered,  and  a  cloud  passed 
over  her  face. 

She  was  right.  Mr.  Fenn  had  not  neglected  to  write  twice 
each  week  since  he  had  left,  and  Flora,  with  some  agitation, 
took  the  welcome  missive  into  her  hand.  She  had  known, 
from  the  evening  of  Lura's  first  outburst  of  anger  toward 
her,  of  the  love  she  bore  in  her  heart  for  her  betrothed. 
She  pitied  her,  and  therefore  always  avoided  every  refer- 
ence to  the  past  which  she  thought  would  pain  her. 

"  You  need  not  put  it  away  to  read  alone.    I  will  excuse 


280  THE  TIE  SUNDERED. 

you,  knowing  well  I  could  not,  or  would  not,  wait  for  cere- 
mony if  it  were  mine." 

These  words  were  spoken  very  quietly,  yet  Flora  well 
comprehended  their  deep,  hidden  import.  She  ccmplied. 
however,  with  the  suggestion,  while  Lura  looked  long  and 
earnestly  down  the  street,  carelessly  humming  in  a  low, 
sweet  voice  a  few  snatches  of  her  favorite  song : 

"  Joys  that  we've  tasted 

May  sometimes  return, 
But  the  torch,  when  once  wasted, 
Oh,  how  can  it  burn  V 

Flora  refolded  the  letter  and  held  it  carelessly  in  her 
hand. 

"  May  I  ask  you  a  question  ?"  said  Lura,  turning  abruptly 
toward  her. 

"  Certainly ;  as  many  as  you  choose." 

"  When  is  Mr.  Fenn  to  return  to  the  city  ?" 

"  Perhaps  next  week." 

"  You  said  as  many  as  I  choose,"  she  continued,  with  a 
emile,  "  so  one  more.  He  has  heard  of  Mrs.  Clark's  death ; 
what  would  he  like  to  have  you  do  now?" 

Flora  started ;  but  truthful  as  she  always  was,  she  would 
not  in  the  present  instance  turn  aside  from  the  truth — no, 
not  even  by  an  equivocation.  Her  voice  was  very  low,  ai 
•he  answered : 

"  To  become  his  wife." 

"  I  expected  as  much.    And  you  will  comply  T" 

"No." 

"You  will  not?" 

"  I  cannot." 


CHAPTER   XXXV. 
UNREST. 

T1DGARTON  HALL  had  once  been  a  splendid  mansion, 
J?J  but  at  the  time  of  which  we  write  its  external  grandeur 
had  been  somewhat  marred  by  age  and  the  three  successive 
generations  who  had  lived,  and  many  of  whom  had  died, 
beneath  its  roof.  The  spacious  grounds,  with  their  groves 
of  lofty  primeval  trees,  the  grassy  lawns  and  lengthy  hedges, 
the  well-filled  gardens  and  the  gravel-walks  had  been  robbed 
of  their  freshness  and  beauty  by  the  lapse  of  years,  and  the 
mods  of  age  and  neglect  clung  undisturbed  to  the  marble 
fountain  and  stained  its  silvery  waters.  Internally,  the  rich- 
ness and  splendor  had  not  been  suffered  thus  to  be  dimmed, 
for  Lady  Anna  had  not  forgotten  her  luxurious  girlhood's 
home,  and  as  far  as  possible  gratified  her  early  acquired  taste 
in  the  adorning  of  her  present  abode. 

Charles  Edgarton,  the  only  son  and  undisputed  heir  of 
his  father's  estate,  possessed  somewhat  of  his  mother's  wild, 
dreamy  spirit,  tempered  by  the  mildness  and  coolness  of  his 
English  blood,  which  made  him  a  pleasant  companion,  an 
ardent  and  most  tenacious  friend,  though  somewhat  hasty 
and  impetuous. 

Upon  an  evening  in  the  early  summer,  Edgarton,  accord- 
ing to  his  usual  custom,  sat  alone  upon  the  broad  portico 
overlooking  the  garden,  whence  the  flowers  sent  up  their 
refreshing  fragrance,  and  watched  the  slowly  retiring  sun 
as  it  lingered  upon  the  mountains,  with  its  rays  of  purple 
and  gold  playing  with  the  fleecy  clouds  which  hovered  near 
to  catch  its  last  good-night.  Perhaps  he  was  thinking  of  a 
little  spot  far  away,  and  of  a  time  when  that  same  glorious 

24  •  381 


282  UNREST. 

light  faded  slowly  out,  as  he  watched  it  from  a  little  rocky 
eminence  upon  which  he  often  sat  listening  for  an  airy 
footstep  and  the  musical  greeting  of  a  silvery  voice,  for  a 
smile  rested  upon  his  face  and  a  light  was  shining  in  his 
calm  blue  eye.  He  slowly  arose  from  his  recumbent  posi- 
tion, as  his  mother  approached  him,  and  invited  her  to  a 
Beat  beside  him. 

"  Femberton  Castle,  from  its  elevated  position  above  us, 
always  steals  our  sunshine,  and  glows  brilliantly  in  its  set- 
ting glories  long  after  we  are  enveloped  in  the  evening 
shadows,"  remarked  his  mother,  as  she  took  the  proffered 
Beat,  with  her  eyes  fixed  upon  the  distant  towers  of  that 
ancient  pile,  which  had  for  many  years  been  the  estate 
coveted  by  her  for  her  darling  child. 

He  looked  earnestly  at  the  face  before  him  for  a  moment, 
then  replied : 

"In  my  opinion,  its  most  fascinating  beauties  are  seen 
from  this  place  at  this  hour.  But  everything  is  beautifu . 
when  tinged  by  such  a  gorgeous  sunset." 

The  mother  remained  thoughtfully  silent  for  a  few  mo- 
ments, then  said,  abruptly, 

"I  have  just  received  another  letter  from  Mrs.  Edwards." 

"  Indeed,"  was  the  only  comment 

"She  is  about  to  visit  us  with  the  family;  and  laying 
aside  all  past  prejudices  and  family  feeling,  I  have  invited 
them  to  spend  some  time  with  us." 

"  Ah  !  she  has  reached  the  goal  for  which  she  was  strug- 
gling, then,"  remarked  the  son,  with  more  bitterness  than 
she  had  ever  observed  in  him  before. 

"  I  do  not  comprehend  the  meaning  of  your  words,"  she 
replied,  quickly.  "  Will  you  explain  ?" 

"  If  necessary.  The  Edwards  family,  for  reasons  which 
you  well  know,  have  lost  caste  in  the  land  of  their  birth, 
which  might  in  a  great  measure  be  restored  were  they 
honored  guests  at  Edgarton  Hall,  and  my  father's  noble 
cousins  might  be  induced  to  welcome  them,  again  to  his 


UNREST.  283 

home.  This,  as  you  well  know,  would  be  the  step  toward 
a  family  recognition  and  their  restoration  to  that  position 
which  Mrs.  Edwards  lost  many  years  ago  by  her  unfortunate 
marriage.  This,  as  I  asserted,  has  been  the  goal  which  her 
ambition  for  a  long  time  has  been  striving  to  reach." 

"You  certainly  must  be  mistaken;  the  invitation  waa 
wholly  voluntary  on  my  part." 

"Undoubtedly.  But  will  you  give  me  the  contents  of 
her  last  epistles  of  which  you  just  spoke?  Her  former 
communications  have  been  so  full  of  untiring  solicitude  for 
my  peace  and  future  happiness  that  I  cannot  for  a  moment 
imagine  her  zeal  abated." 

"You  are  prejudiced,  my  son,"  said  Lady  Edgarton, 
warmly,  "  and  you  suffer  your  animosity  to  overcome  your 
better  judgment.  Mrs.  Edwards'  letters  contained  nothing 
but  what  you  should  have  sought  anxiously  to  ascertain. 
In  an  hour  of  foolish  fancy  you  took  under  your  care  and 
protection  a  wild,  giddy  child  who  has  since  proved  herself 
unworthy  of  your  slightest  thought,  much  more  of  the  aid 
which  you  still  persist  in  affording  her.  Was  it  wrong  in  a 
relative  of  your  father  to  tell  you  this  ?  It  grieves  me  ex- 
ceedingly to  feel  that,  after  all  the  information  which  we 
have  received  of  this  child's  impudence,  self-will,  heartless- 
ness  and,  worse  than  all,  dishonesty,  you  still  maintain  your 
interest  in  her.  I  say  it  grieves  me,  and,  more  than  this, 
the  Lady  Eveline  is  much  offended  about  it." 

The  lips  of  the  young  man  moved  slightly,  and  the  same 
look  which  the  island  fairy  in  her  artlessness  called  "  angry  " 
for  a  moment  lingered  there. 

"  Pardon  me  my  dear  mother,  for  one  moment,  and  I  will 
tell  you  to  what  degree  the  important  information  which 
you  have  at  three  different  times  received  from  those  kind, 
disinterested  friends  has  affected  me.  In  the  first  place, 
I  do  not  believe  in  the  obtruded  love  with  which  she  is 
reported  to  have  amazed  the  hopeful  son  and  heir  of  the 
Illustrious  Edwards  family.  Neither  do  I  believe  in  her 


284  UNREST. 

self-will  in  leaving  the  home  my  kindness  provided  for  her 
without  any  other  cause  or  provocation  than  that  this  same 
eon  and  heir  rejected  the  suit  so  unfemininely  offered,  or 
that  in  her  fall  she  enticed  the  poor  deluded  '  Fury '  from 
her  home,  into  a  cold,  unfeeling  world.  Nor,  in  the  third 
place,  would  a  whole  shipload  of  similar  communications 
from  such  a  source  ever  make  me  doubt  the  purity  or  hon- 
esty of  Flora  Hawes." 

Lady  Edgarton  was  enraged.  All  the  fire  of  her  Italian 
nature  was  aroused,  and  in  this  moment  of  her  frenzy  she 
forgot  the  prudence  which  had  hitherto  guided  her  move- 
ments and  guarded  her  words  for  more  than  two  years,  as 
with  blanched  cheeks  and  lips  she  asked,  hastily, 

"Charles  Edgarton,  do  you  love  that  wretched  Indian 
girl?" 

The  last  words  were  hissed  through  her  tightly  closed 
teeth,  but  the  ear  for  which  they  were  intended  distinctly 
heard  them,  and  for  a  moment  all  his  power  of  thought  was 
paralyzed  as  they  sank  like  poisoned  arrows  deep  down  into 
his  aching  heart. 

The  lady  had  revealed  herself,  and  awaited  his  reply.  Oh, 
how  much  hung  upon  his  answer !  He  had  promised  to 
marry  the  Lady  Eveline.  Would  she  ever  consent  to  be- 
come his  if  she  should  learn  that  his  first  affections  had 
been  bestowed  upon  such  an  unworthy  object  ?  This  thought 
was  extremely  painful,  and  vision  after  vision  of  progressive 
greatness  that  was  to  cluster  around  the  name  of  Edgarton 
vanished  before  it. 

The  young  man  arose  and  paced  slowly  and  with  meas- 
ured step  up  and  down  the  broad  open  piazza,  yet  he  an- 
swered not. 

The  glory  and  brilliancy  of  Pemberton  Castle  died  away. 
The  sun  had  withdrawn  his  evening  rays  from  among  the 
clouds,  and  shadows  dark  and  deep  were  falling  all  around 
them,  but  none  darker  or  deeper  than  those  that  settled 
heavily  down  upon  the  heart  of  Edgarton  and  shut  out  the 


UNREST.  285 

once  glowing  future  from  his  unhappy  mother.  At  last, 
stopping  short  in  his  measured  walk  before  his  silent  com- 
panion, he  asked  abruptly,  but  calmly, 

"  Will  you  tell  me,  mother,  how  long  you  have  been  in 
possession  of  such  startling  facts  as  you  have  just  commu- 
nicated ?" 

"  For  many  months,"  was  the  laconic  answer. 

"  What  was  your  reason  for  thus  withholding  the  infor- 
mation from  me?" 

"  My  reasons  were  maternal,  and  as  such  should  be  con- 
sidered sacred  by  my  son,"  she  replied,  coldly,  and  rising, 
entered  the  house. 

A  long,  sleepless  night  was  before  her,  as,  full  of  anxiety 
and  fearful  forebodings,  she  walked  her  apartment. 

"  To  think,  after  all,"  she  soliloquized,  "  that  he  should 
inform  me  that  he  totally  disbelieved  all  the  reports  derog- 
atory to  the  character  of  this  hateful  child !  It  is  too  pro- 
voking. And  I  have  led  him  on  so  gently,  fearing  to  excite 
his  anger  or  indignation,  lest  my  most  cherished  plans 
should  be  frustrated,  and  to-night  I  have  spoiled  all.  Un- 
happy mother  that  I  am !  In  three  months  more  I  hoped 
to  see  him  the  husband  of  Lady  Eveline,  yet  I  well  know 
he  does  not  love  her.  No,  no ;  the  worthy  son  of  an  illus- 
trious sire,  he  loves  an  Indian  girl.  I  know  it;  I  saw  it  in 
his  face  to-night,  notwithstanding  his  anger.  Yes,  he  loves 
her;"  and  the  passionate  woman  threw  herself  upon  the 
sofa  and  wept  aloud.  "  Yet  there  is  room  for  effort,"  she 
said,  more  calmly,  as  the  storm  of  her  grief  passed  away. 
"  I  must  curb  my  emotion.  He  loves  me,  and  by  affection 
I  may  even  yet  win  him  to  my  purposes." 

Some  weeks  would  elapse  before  the  arrival  of  the  Ed- 
wards family,  and  in  the  interval  no  efforts  must  be  spared 
that  would  have  a  tendency  toward  the  consummation  of 
this  one  great  object. 

Early  the  next  morning  the  Lady  Eveline  arrived  at  the 
hall  to  spend  the  day,  as  was  her  frequent  custom,  by  the 


286  UNREST. 

urgent  invitation  of  Lady  Edgarton,  who  was  very  lonely 
without  her.  The  cheerful  faces  that  gathered  around  tne 
little  table  in  the  great  drawing-room  at  lunch  showed  no 
traces  of  any  recent  agitation.  The  vivacious  young  lady 
laughed  and  chatted  merrily  on,  and  the  mother  and  son 
joined  cheerfully  in  the  enjoyment  of  the  hour. 

Their  guest  was  not  beautiful,  but  she  had  an  acquired 
ease  and  grace  which  would  have  pleased,  perhaps  fasci- 
nated, one  who  had  not  known  her,  as  Edgarton  had,  when 
none  of  these  accomplishments  had  smoothed  the  irritability 
of  her  nature  or  covered  up  the  blemishes  of  her  girlish  face. 
She  was  some  years  younger  than  Edgarton,  and  often,  when 
a  child,  after  pulling  the  ears  of  his  favorite  spaniel,  upset- 
ting a  china  vase  in  which  his  morning  bouquet  was  cher- 
ished, or  snapping  from  its  frail  stalk  some  petted  flower 
before  its  beautiful  leaves  were  unfolded  to  his  gaze,  she 
would  elevate  her  diminutive  figure  with  an  assumed  stateli- 
ness,  and  inform  him  that  there  was  no  use  in  his  getting 
angry  at  her,  that  she  was  to  be  his  wife  and  do  just  as  she 
pleased.  Whereupon  the  embryo  husband  most  ungallantly 
asserted  his  disbelief  in  the  whole  affair,  and  determined 
within  himself  never  to  submit  to  such  a  repulsive  alliance. 
She  had  changed,  however,  during  his  long  absence  in  a 
distant  land,  and  now  graciously  avowed  her  affection  for 
all  that  he  loved,  admired  his  cherished  flowers  and  per- 
mitted them  to  bloom  and  fade  where  nature  intended  they 
should,  feeling  a  little  annoyed  at  times,  perhaps,  that  an- 
other hand  did  not  pluck  them  for  her.  but  her  childish 
declaration  was  never  employed  as  a  corrective  for  any  in- 
disposition on  his  part.  Thus  he  had  in  a  manner  forgotten 
his  boyish  dislike,  and  something  like  love  had  taken  pos- 
session of  his  heart,  as  he  beheld  the  affection  that  existed 
between  her  and  his  only  parent,  and  felt  the  soothing, 
fostering  power  of  the  unnumbered  little  attentions  which 
she  ever  appeared  delighted  to  bestow  on  him. 

Whole  dayg  they  spent  together,  riding,  walking,  reu'ling 


UNREST.  287 

or  conveising,  as  the  mood  prompted,  until  Lady  Edgarton's 
heart  was  made  to  rejoice  with  unbounded  joy  by  her  son's 
promising  with  filial  duty  to  ask  Lady  Eveline  for  her  hand. 
"  Not  for  her  fortune,"  he  added,  with  a  gracious  smile,  "  as 
I  have  sufficient  for  all  my  future  plans." 

"Your  aspirations  cannot  be  very  lofty,"  remarked  his 
mother,  pleasantly. 

It  was  enough  for  her  to  know,  however,  that  he  would 
consent  to  the  first;  the  second  she  was  sure  would  take 
care  of  itself.  Yet  she  knew  not  if  his  promise  had  been 
kept.  How  much  she  regretted  having  aroused  the  slumber- 
ing fires  of  what  she  was  now  sure  was  true  affection  I  and 
her  heart  was  much  relieved  of  its  weighty  load  when  she 
saw  his  smiling  face  opposite  her  whom  she  hoped  would 
shortly  be  his  wife,  and  listened  to  the  words  of  good-humored 
affability  with  which  he  graced  the  passing  hour. 

How  deep,  then,  her  grief  and  disappointment,  when,  a 
few  days  afterward,  he  announced  his  intention  of  going 
abroad  for  a  few  months ! 

"  To  America  ?"  she  asked,  in  surprise. 

"  No ;  to  France,  Italy  and  Germany,  and  wherever  els«> 
in  that  direction  fancy  or  inclination  may  lead  me." 

No  amount  of  persuasion  could  affect  his  determination, 
and  preparations  were  accordingly  made  for  his  departure. 

Lady  Eveline  was  inconsolable. 

"  I  am  not  worthy  of  you  now,"  he  whispered  in  her  ear, 
as  they  parted.  "When  I  return,  the  hand  I  shall  cffer 
you  will  be  purely  yours  to  accept  or  reject,  as  your  mature 
judgment  shall  dictate.  Farewell." 

What  could  he  mean  ?  Had  he  loved  another?  The  tact 
and  ingenuity  of  Lady  Anna  satisfactorily  cleared  away  all 
clouds  of  suspicion,  and  the  happy  girl  treasured  up  the 
parting  words,  already  robbed  of  their  seeming  bitterness. 

Lady  Edgarton  was  alone  when  information  reached  her 
of  the  sinking  of  the  Arcadia,  the  arrival  of  Mrs.  Edwards 
and  her  daughter  on  board  the  sailing  vessel,  the  husband 


288  UNREST. 

having  been  lost  overboard,  and  the  son  among  the  missing 
ones,  who,  if  saved,  was  not  with  the  family,  and  a  womanly 
sympathy  took  possession  of  her  heart.  She  remembered 
Mrs,  Edwards  as  she  first  knew  her — a  person  of  more  than 
ordinary  accomplishments,  not  beautiful,  but,  what  was  of 
far  more  importance,  of  high  family  connexions,  yet  the  wife 
oi  a  man  much  inferior  to  herself  in  rank  and  position,  who, 
having  squandered  the  property  which  an  incensed  family 
deigned  to  bestow  upon  her,  had  taken  his  family  to  a  dis- 
tant land,  dependent  upon  a  small  legacy  of  his  own  for 
their  support.  She  was  now  to  return  a  widow  and  almost 
childless. 

The  next  morning  Lady  Edgarton's  private  carriage 'was 
sent  to  London,  where  the  wanderers  were  expected  to  arrive 
that  day,  and  preparations  were  made  for  their  hearty  re- 
ception. 

Sir  Charles,  in  the  mean  time,  had  sailed  for  France 
A  few  weeks  in  Paris  had  satisfied  his  desire  for  novelty 
there ;  and  his  restless  spirit  urging  him  forward,  he  soon 
found  himself  comfortably  stowed  away  on  board  a  small 
but  swift  sailing-vessel  bound  for  Italy.  This  was  the  fairy- 
land of  dreams,  the  blue  arch  of  whose  fadeless  sky  moved 
to  poetry  and  song — the  land  of  which  his  mother  had  told 
him,  as  he  sat  upon  her  knee  in  early  childhood,  and  which 
had  filled  his  mind  in  riper  years  with  beautiful  fancies. 
There  were  dark-eyed  maidens  there  too,  with  winning 
voices  tuned  by  love's  own  melody,  and  smiles  that  vied 
with  the  cloudless  sky  above  them.  There  he  would  rest 
\Vhere  his  mother  first  beheld  the  light  of  day,  where  her 
maiden  heart  had  been  won  by  the  noble  English  traveller 
and  her  pure  heart's  first  love  had  been  plighted,  would 
ho  tear  the  unhallowed  passion  from  his  heart;  there  would 
he  lose  the  memory  of  this  island  fairy,  and  cast  her  image 
for  ever  from  him.  It  was  true  that  he  did  not  betievp  the 
accusation  brought  against  her,  yet  she  would  not  writ  i  to 
him,  knowing,  perhaps,  as  well  as  himself,  the  imprep »'  Hy 


UNREST.  289 

of  a  love  like  theirs,  deriving,  as  she  did,  her  origin  in  part 
from  a  hated  and  despised  race,  while  in  his  own  veins 
coursed  the  purest  blood  of  England.  It  was  plain  he  could 
never  marry  her,  never  be  aught  more  to  her  than  he  then 
was;  why,  then,  should  he  think  of  her?  He  would  im- 
mediately upon  his  return  forward  to  Mrs.  Willard  funds 
sufficient  to  liquidate  his  whole  debt  of  honor,  write  to  the 
mission  pastor,  consigning  her  to  the  hands  of  those  from 
whom  he  took  her,  and  his  whole  duty  in  the  premises 
would  be  ended.  Yet  should  he  never  see  her?  Was  tho 
great  work  which  his  benevolence  was  to  perform  upon  a 
native  child  of  the  woods  to  pass  into  obscurity,  and  his 
eyes  never  behold  its  result  ?  It  must  be  so.  Yet  the  poetry 
and  song  of  an  Italian  clime,  the  gorgeous  beauty  of  the  sky 
and  scenery,  the  winning  smiles  of  the  dark-eyed  maidens, 
could  not  drive  the  restlessness  from  his  heart,  and  still  he 
wandered  on. 

Months  after  he  had  left  his  English  home  he  entered  a 
small  seaport  town  upon  the  coast  of  Germany.  He  was 
weary  from  a  long  and  rough  voyage,  and  had  determined 
to  spend  a  few  days  in  this  quiet  spot  for  rest  and  repose. 
One  day,  while  walking  through  an  unfrequented  street,  he 
accidentally  cast  his  eyes  to  an  upper  window  of  a  house 
opposite,  when  he  beheld  a  pale,  haggard  face  which  at  once 
attracted  his  attention.  That  face  was  not  unfamiliar  to 
him.  Somewhere,  he  was  sure,  he  had  met  it  before.  All 
night  it  haunted  him.  Where  had  he  seen  it?  Early  the 
next  morning  he  determined  to  satisfy  his  curiosity  by 
inquiring  at  the  house  in  question.  He  there  learned  that 
A  young  man  had  been  sick  under  that  roof  for  a  number 
of  weeks,  and  in  a  few  moments  afterward  he  was  standing 
in  the  presence  of  Edgar  Edwards. 

"  My  poor  fellow  !"  he  exclaimed,  pressing  affectionately 
the  proffered  hand.  " How  pale  and  feeble  you  look!  Tell 
me,  I  beg  of  you,  how  you  came  to  be  here  in  such  a  pitia- 
ble plight?" 

26 


290  UNREST. 

"Accidents,  happening  everywhere,"  he  answered,  in  a 
low  voice.  "I  have  been  tossed  here  by  shipwreck,  and 
coniined  here  by  sickness  and  poverty.  But  it  will  soon 
be  over.  The  doctor  tells  me  my  days  are  few." 

He  spoke  hesitatingly  and  with  broken  accents ;  and  when 
lie  had  ended,  his  head  sank  listlessly  upon  his  hand. 

Edgarton's  quick  apprehension  read  much  in  the  few 
silent  moments  which  ensued.  He  had  received  a  letter 
from  his  mother  while  in  Genoa,  giving  an  account  of  the 
wreck  of  the  Arcadia  and  the  death  of  Mr.  Edwards,  to- 
gether with  the  loss  of  Edgar,  of  whom  they  could  leain 
nothing.  He,  of  course,  was  in  equal  ignorance  of  them. 

Something  must  be  done,  and  joyously  did  the  restless 
wanderer  lay  hold  of  the  work  before  him. 

"Do  you  know,"  he  inquired,  "that  your  mother  and 
sister  arrived  at  Edgarton  Hall  safely,  and  are  now  my 
mother's  guests  ?" 

Edgar  raised  his  head  quickly,  as  Edgarton  spoke,  and  a 
flush  of  excitement  rushed  to  his  cheeks. 

"Is  this  true?  Oh,  I  did  not  dare  to  ask  you.  I  have 
had  such  a  serious  time — been  to  the  coast  of  Africa,  and 
returned  as  far  as  here.  I  knew  they  could  never  endure 
so  much.  You  have  made  me  happy  indeed ;"  and  he  rose 
and  clasped  Edgarton's  hand.  "  I  almost  feel  that  I  can 
go  to  them." 

"  So  you  can.  It  is  a  mistake  that  your  days  are  so  few. 
You  need  rest  and  good,  dry  air  for  a  while,  and  all  will 
then  be  right.  You  shall  be  my  companion  for  a  time,  and 
see  if  you  do  not  recover  under  my  care." 

In  a  few  days  they  exchanged  the  little  seaport  town  for 
a  home  in  the  interior.  Edgarton  wrote  often  to  his  mother 
and  Lady  Eveline,  telling  them  of  his  invalid  companion, 
whom  it  was  impossible  to  leave;  but  none  knew  in  thai 
distant  land  that  that  companion  was  the  long  lost  Edgar 
Edwards. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 
THE  CRUSHED  FORGET-ME-NOT. 

IT  wad  a  pleasant  rural  retreat  not  far  from  the  bank  of 
the  beautiful  Rhine  to  which  Edgarton  had  taken  the 
invalid.  Scenery  the  most  enchanting  to  the  eye  of  Nature's 
true  admirer  lay  spread  out  immediately  before  them,  while 
just  beyond,  crowning  the  summit  of  a  well-wooded  hill, 
was  one  of  those  lofty  ruins  over  which  poets  and  artists 
had  grown  mad,  and  over  whose  faded  beauties  from  the 
wreck  of  the  past  travelers  wonder,  while  the  practical 
adventurers  scrutinizingly  eye  as  they  stumble  over  the 
immense  wealth  which  is  rapidly  mouldering  away,  yield- 
ing no  interest  or  profit. 

While  the.  lovers  of  history,  the  earnest  searchers  for 
those  hidden  links  which  connect  our  golden  present  with 
the  great  receding  past,  linger  at  these  open  portals  through 
which  fancy  leads  them  back  into  the  now  silent  labyrinth 
where  the  footprints  of  the  great  and  noble  of  other  days 
Btill  remain,  uneffaced  by  the  desecrating  hand  of  Time,— 
while  they  revel  in  these  antiquated  halls,  they  turn  their 
admiring  gaze  to  the  present,  in  which  they  live,  and  feel 
th?ir  souls  grow  strong,  as  they  reach  out  into  the  glowing 
•future. 

In  this  mood  Edgarton  was  wont  to  sit  for  hours  upon 
the  fragment  of  a  crumbling  tower  by  the  side  of  his  friend, 
and  talk  to  him  of  those  scenes  through  which  his  prolific 
fancy  was  leading  him.  But  bis  auditor  only  shrugged  his 
shoulders  with  an  impatient  air,  complained  of  the  chilling 
winds,  his  weakness  and  the  desolation  of  his  soul,  which 
always  increased  at  this  "  funeral  pile,"  as  he  termed  it,  and 

201 


292  THE  CRUSHED  FORQET-ME-NOT. 

with  a  slow,  unsteady  step  he  was  led  back  to  his  little 
chamber  and  his  easy-chair. 

"  It  is  of  no  use,"  he  said  one  day,  after  their  usual  walk ; 
"  I  shall  not  regain  my  health  here ;  I  am  no  stronger  than 
when  we  came.  And  yet  I  am  not  sick ;  a  weakness,  a  de- 
pression, holds  me  down."  ^ 

"  How  would  you  like  to  go  to  my  home,  rejoin  your 
mother  and  sister,  and  proceed  to  fill  out  the  programme 
of  your  projected  visit?"  inquired  Edgarton,  soothingly. 

"Go  to  England?" 

"Yes." 

*  We  must  separate,  then,"  replied  the  invalid,  dropping 
his  face  upon  his  hands. 

"  No,  no,  Edgar ;  I  did  not  mean  that.  I  shall  not  leave 
you  to  go  alone  through  a  land  of  strangers.  I  only  wish 
to  aid  you.  You  are  not  sick,  as  you  just  now  asserted. 
Your  system,  however,  is  prostrated  by  a  long  series  of 
excitements  and  disasters,  and  you  need  some  counteracting 
influences  brought  to  bear  upon  you.  Perhaps  my  pro- 
posed plan  would  be  the  most  effectual.  That  is  why  I 
mentioned  it." 

"  True,"  replied  the  invalid,  with  an  effort ;  "  but  the  in- 
fluences of  which  you  speak  could  never  have  the  desired 
effect.  No,  no ;  I  have  no  wish  to  go  to  England." 

Edgarton  could  not  comprehend  the  reason  of  his  ob- 
jection, and  both  remained  silent  for  a  long  time.  Edgar 
ipoke  first : 

"  Do  you  believe,  my  friend,  that  my  poor  despised,  for- 
Baken  sister  has  talent  enough  to  write  a  book  ?" 

Edgarton  smiled : 

"  It  does  not  require  much  talent,  I  believe,  to  write  some 
books.  But  why  do  you  ask  me  such  a  question  ?  I  know 
but  very  little  about  your  sister ;  and  if  she  has  any  particu- 
lar or  peculiar  talent,  you  certainly  ought  to  know  it." 

"  Ought !  We  ought  to  have  known  and  done  many 
things  which  we  did  not  know  and  do.  But  the  reason 


THE  CEUSHED  FORGET-ME-NOT.  293 

I  asked  you  is  that  we  read  a  work  soon  after  we  started 
on  our  voyage  which  must  either  have  been  written  by  her 
or  by  some  one  who  knew  her  history." 

"  Perhaps,"  replied  Edgarton,  with  hesitation,  and  the  hot 
blood  rushed  to  his  temples — "  perhaps  her  particular  friend 
Flora  is  the  author.    Pshaw !"  he  continued,  biting  his  lips-: 
'  that  could  not  be.     What  is  the  title  of  the  book  ?" 

" '  Thorny  Way,'  and  in  it  poor  sister's  life  is  most  truth 
fully  portrayed.   Edgarton,  a  change  has  come  over  me.    Life 
has  turned  away  the  side  adorned  with  glittering  hopes  and 
gaudy  bubbles,  and  now  the  dark,  bitter  reality  is  presented 
to  my  shrinking  vision." 

A  shudder  passed  through  his  frame,  and  again  he  was 
eilent.  A  new  topic  of  interest  had  been  touched"  upon, 
and  Edgarton,  notwithstanding  the  excitement  of  his  ner- 
vous companion,  had  no  desire  to  let  it  drop. 

"Where  is  your  sister?"  he  asked,  after  a  moment's  re- 
flection. 

"  Earning  her  bread  by  incessant  toil  in  a  humble,  obscure 
home,"  he  replied. 

"Is  Flora  with  her?" 

"Yes." 

A  sudden  thought  glanced  through  the  questioner's  mind, 
and  he  asked,  abruptly, 

"  Why  did  they  leave  your  father's  home  and  subject 
themselves  to  deprivation  and  want?" 

"  On  account  of  wrongs,  Edgarton — cruel,  bitter  wrongs, 
such  as  could  only  emanate  from  a  narrow,  selfish  soul ;" 
and  he  arose  from  his  chair  and  began  to  pace  the  floor  it 
an  excited  manner. 

"Be  calm,"  said  Edgarton,  taking  him  by  the  arm  ami 
quietly  reseating  him.  "  If  there  are  wrongs  all  around  us, 
the  consciousness  that  our  hands  assisted  not  in  their  per- 
petration can  soothe  and  comfort  us." 

"  Yes,  it  would,  no  doubt,"  he  replied,  somewhat  bitterly, 
"  but  unfortunately  I  have  no  such  consolation." 

25* 


294  THE  CRUSHED  FORGET-ME-NOT. 

u  Not  for  yourself?"  asked  Edgarton,  in  surprise. 

"  No ;  I  knew  too  well  that  those  letters  which  I  carried 
to  my  artful  sister  never  reached  their  destination.  Edgar- 
ton,  I  have  wronged  you,  and  your  kindness  toward  me 
now  is  burning  my  life  out.  Away  from  me !  Away,  I  say, 
or  my  blood  be  upon  your  head !" 

With  a  frantic  gesture  he  broke  away  from  the  friendlj 
arms  that  would  have  held  him,  and  rushed  from  the  room. 
From  that  hour  the  poor  invalid,  who  had  for  many  months 
been  suffering  from  a  slow  nervous  fever  tending  strongly 
toward  lunacy,  became  wholly  insane — "  hopelessly  so,  in- 
deed," according  to  the  assertion  of  the  physician. 

Edgarton's  task  was  now  very  unpleasant.  He  had  main- 
tained a  regular  correspondence  with  his  friends  at  home 
during  his  absence,  but  for  reasons  wholly  his  own  he  had 
never  dipclosed  the  name  of  his  companion,  to  whom,  as 
he  wrote,  he  felt  great  pleasure  in  administering  in  his  sore 
need,  in  remembrance  of  the  relationship  which  subsisted 
between  them  in  former  days.  It  was  sad  now  to  feel  that 
his  best  efforts  had  been  unavailing,  and  that  the  being 
•whom  he  had  striven  so  hard  to  comfort  and  relieve  had 
become  a  pitiable  wreck  before  his  eyes.  There  was  yet 
one  hope,  one  other  resource,  for  him.  Edgar's  mother 
and  sister  would  in  a  few  months  return  to  their  home  in 
America.  He  could  not  leave  him  in  that  foreign  land, 
away  from  all  family  attentions,  to  an  uncertain  fate.  Their 
love  and  attentions  might  perchance  call  back  his  wander- 
ing mind.  It  must  be  done.  He  would  undertake  the 
perilous  journey,  place  his  friend  in  one  of  those  world- 
famed  institutions  for  the  insane  across  the  waters,  return  to 
England,  marry  Lady  Eveline  like  a  dutiful  son,  and  com- 
mence even  at  this  late  hour  a  rational,  sensible  life. 

The  voyage  was  uncomfortable ;  but  although  it  was  late 
in  the  season,  the  elements  were  propitious,  and  in  due  time 
they  reached  New  York  in  safety.  Edgar  had  remained 
rery  calm  and  quiet  since  he  had  been  told  that  he  should 


THE  CRUSHED  FORGET-ME-NOT.  295 

go  back  to  Pleasant  Cottage  if  he  wished ;  and  when,  at  last, 
he  reached  his  destination,  and  the  carriage  drove  up  in 
front  of  the  asylum,  he  whispered  confidentially  to  his  com- 
panion, "At  home  at  last,"  then  broke  forth  into  a  long, 
loud  peal  of  laughter,  the  first  which  Edgarton  had  heard 
from  him  for  many  weeks. 

"  I  wonder  if  my  poor  sister  is  here  ?"  he  continued.  "  I 
shall  tell  her  the  first  thing  that  I  love  her  better  than  all 
the  rest  of  the  world.  I  hope  she  is  looking  out  for  me." 

It  was  sad  to  see  the  wild,  vacant  stare  of  those  blue  eyes, 
and  to  listen  to  the  low,  hollow  laugh  that  accompanied  hia 
concluding  words ;  and  long  after  Edgarton  had  seen  him 
comfortably  situated  and  left  him  under  the  skillful  care  of 
the  attending  physician,  that  stare  and  that  laugh  haunted 
him  like  some  dark,  spectral  vision  from  the  gloomy  shades 
of  the  past. 

He  returned  to  his  hotel  sad  and  dispirited.  No  ship 
was  to  sail  for  Liverpool  for  three  weeks.  How  should  he 
contrive  to  pass  away  the  intervening  time  ?  The  name  of 
Flora  came  sounding  up  through  his  heart,  but  he  smothered 
it.  No,  no !  it  would  do  him  no  good  to  look  upon  that 
eweet  face.  His  resolution  was  fixed,  and  come  what  might, 
he  must  not  swerve  from  it.  For  a  long  time  he  had  not 
disputed  with  his  heart  touching  the  love  it  bore  the  beauti- 
ful Indian  girl,  but  the  absurdity  of  the  fact  had  cooled 
its  ardor  and  awakened  within  him  higher  and  brightei 
aspirations. 

"  Yet,  after  all,"  he  soliloquized,  "  would  it  not  be  wrong 
to  leave  the  sister  of  poor  Edgar  in  ignorance  of  his  present 
condition,  when  she  perhaps  might  be  instrumental  in  doing 
him  so  much  good  ?  Could  I  not  break  the  sad  intelligence 
to  her  more  gently  by  word  of  mouth  than  by  writing  ?  But 
then  their  homes  are  one."  Yet  why  should  he  hesitate 
to  see  Flora?  He  felt  fully  assured  by  Edgar's  words  that 
ihe  had  never  received  his  letters.  How,  then,  could  she 
be  blamed  for  not  answering  them  ? 


296  THE  CRUSHED  FORGET-ME-NOT. 

This  was  not  to  the  point,  but  he  pleaded  on.  Firm  in 
his  devotion  to  Lady  Eveline,  he  would  see  Flora,  converse 
with  her  gravely  upon  the  future  he  proposed  for  her,  gay 
farewell,  then  leave  her  for  ever.  He  grew  calm,  as  he 
settled  down  in  this  purpose,  and  the  next  day  found  him 
on  board  a  steamer  ploughing  rapidly  up  the  Hudson. 

It  was  a  clear,  frosty  day,  and  there  were  snow-caps  upon 
the  mountains  that  skirted  the  majestic  river,  but  the  glory 
of  the  scenery  had  fled,  and  the  leafless  trees  stretched  out 
their  bare  branches  in  supplicating  appeals  to  departed 
summer.  Edgarton  was  not  thinking  of  the  trees,  or  of 
the  snow-capped  mountains,  or  of  the  beautiful  river  over 
which  he  was  hurrying,  but  of  her  whom  in  a  few  hours  he 
expected  to  meet.  Would  she  be  changed  ?  or  would  she 
rush  to  greet  him  with  the  same  artless  freedom  which  was 
her  wont  when  he  called  her  his  island  fairy  ?  Restless  and 
impatient,  he  walks  the  deck  for  a  while,  then  seats  him- 
self, a  martyr  to  his  overtasked  patience.  Albany  at  last  is 
reached.  Six  miles  more,  and  the  steamer,  true  to  its  trust, 
landed  safely  its  valuable  freight. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  Edgarton  left  his  hotel 

for  a  visit  to  the  seminary.  Mrs.  W received  him 

kindly,  but  informed  him  that  he  was  too  late  to  see  Flora 
that  afternoon,  as  she  had  been  excused  by  her  teacher  for 
the  last  hour,  and  had  retired  on  account  of  a  sick  friend, 
as  she  believed.  He  learned  her  number  and  address,  and 
without  further  inquiries  sallied  forth  to  find  her. 

"  There  must  certainly  be  some  mistake,"  he  thought,  as 
he  reached  the  house  to  which  he  had  been  directed. 
"This  does  not  look  much  like  a  humble  and  obscure 
home."  But  he  hurried  up  the  marble  steps  and  rang  the 
bell.  His  inquiry  being  answered  in  the  affirmative  by  the 
waiter  who  responded  to  the  summons,  he  was  shown  into 
a  large,  sumptuous  parlor,  where,  full  of  wonder  and  amaze- 
ment, he  awaited  the  approach  of  Flora. 

A  light  step  was  soon  heard  in  the  hall,  and  in  another 


THE  CRUSHED  FORGET-ME-NOT.  297 

moment  the  door  was  quickly  opened,  and  the  lovely 
protegee  stood  before  the  bewildered,  fascinated  visitor. 

"Edgarton!"  she  exclaimed,  impulsively,  darting  for- 
ward; but  as  suddenly  checking  herself,  she  stood  pale 
and  motionless  before  hirr . 

"  Flora !  my  beautiful  fairy !"  and  he  clasped  her  for  one 
moment  to  his  heart ;  then,  releasing  her,  he  gazed  long  into 
her  beaming  face.  "  How  you  have  changed !"  he  said,  at 
last,  leading  her  to  a  sofa  and  seating  himself  beside  her. 

"  The  lapse  of  three  years  changes  us  all  ?"  she  remarked, 
quickly. 

"  Yes,  externally.  Have  I  grown  old,  fairy  ?"  he  asked, 
with  assumed  playfulness. 

"  Not  in  your  face,  that  I  can  see." 

"  Nor  in  my  heart."  Ah !  where  was  his  filial  devotion 
now  ?  Where  the  love  he  had  promised  to  lay  at  the  feet 
of  Lady  Eveline  ?  Forgotten  but  for  a  moment,  when  they 
returned  to  deck  the  idol  of  his  heart  with  new  beauties, 
new  fascinations.  Yet  the  vows  must  not  be  broken.  No ; 
he  would  not  marry  an  Indian  girl.  "  Flora,  why  did  you 
not  write  to  me?"  he  asked,  at  length,  as  she  remained  silent 
at  his  side. 

"  I  answered  all  the  letters  I  received." 

"Yes;  I  have  learned  that  other  hands  than  yours  re- 
ceived them,  other  eyes  probably  read  them." 

She  looked  at  him  in  surprise. 

"  Yes,  and  for  this  reason  you  have  often  called  me  fickle, 
and  vowed  over  and  over  again  never  to  forgive  me." 

There  were  tears  in  the  large,  dark  eyes  of  his  companion, 
but  he  did  not  see  them. 

"  I  have  very  much,"  said  Flora,  "  for  which  to  thank 
you,  and  many  reasons  why  I  should  forgive  almost  any 
neglect  or  thoughtlessness,"  she  answered,  slowly,  but  the 
voice  faltered  and  the  suppressed  tears  would  burst  forth, 
trembling  but  for  a  moment  upon  her  long  lashes,  then  fall- 
ing upon  her  cheek. 


298  THE  CRUSHED  FORQET-ME-NOT. 

"Flora,  dear  Flora,  have  my  idle  words  grieved  you? 
Forgive  them.  You  know  not  the  agony  of  my  heart.  In 
endeavoring  to  hide  it  from  you  I  assumed  a  levity  which 
I  did  not  feel.  I  love  you,  Flora ;  most  truthfully  and  fer- 
vently has  that  flame  burned  in  my  heart  since  the  time 
we  sat  together  upon  the  little  rocky  eminence  that  over- 
looked the  quiet  harbor  of  the  island  of  Mackinaw." 

He  had  drawn  her  head  gently  upon  his  shoulder,  and 
peacefully  and  quietly  it  rested  there  as  when  nearly  four 
years  ago  the  stars  looked  down  and  smiled  upon  her  tran- 
quil joy,  as  they  beheld  it  peacefully,  quietly,  lying  where 
it  now  lay. 

Suddenly  she  arose  and  stood  before  him. 

"  I  am  a  child,"  she  exclaimed,  "  weak  and  fickle ;  you 
the  son  of  a  noble  people.  Do  not  tempt  me  to  utter  worda 
over  which  to-morrow  I  may  weep  bitter  tears  of  repent- 
ance. Let  me  disclose  to  you  hurriedly  and  rapidly  my 
present  position,  which  I  owe  to  you,  my  benefactor,  my 
friend.  Nearly  four  years  ago  you  left  me  here,  an  artless, 
confiding  child,  unacquainted  with  the  world,  yet  pure  in 
motive  as  the  earnest  instructions  of  my  pious,  devoted 
teacher  had  moulded  me.  I  found  the  world  cold  and 
heartless,  and  many  times  cruel.  The  only  treasure  of  the 
past  which  my  heart  contained  was  the  little  forget-me-not 
which  you  placed  in  its  well-guarded  casket  at  parting. 
Yet  this  withered  day  by  day  and  the  sunlight  in  the 
future  died  out,  and  life  appeared  a  dark  and  dreary  waste, 
from  the  difficult  and  disagreeable  task  of  crossing  which  I 
would  gladly  have  shrunk.  Then,  slowly  but  surely,  a 
light,  bright,  all  steady  as  the  noonday  sun,  arose  upon  my 
vision  with  cheerful  promises  of  guidance  through  the 
clouded  way;  and  although  its  beams  sank  not  deeply 
into  my  cold  and  desolate  heart,  yet  the  darkness  fled  from 
my  path  and  I  accepted — " 

Her  voice  choked  and  the  words  died  away  upon  her  lips 
unspoken. 


THE  CRUSHED  FORGET-ME-NOT.  299 

Edgarton  took  her  hand  tenderly  and  drew  her  to  a  seat 
again  beside  him.  Both  remained  for  a  long  time  silent, 
busy  with  their  own  thoughts. 

"Flora,"  he  said,  at  length,  "perhaps  I  did  wrong  io 
bring  you  away  from  your  own  people  into  this  cold  and 
cruel  world.  Would  you  like  to  return  to  the  island  ?" 

"  It  is  too  late,"  she  whispered ;  "  I  am  not  my  own.  As 
soon  as  my  education  is  finished,  I  am  to  become  the  wife 
of  Lewis  Fenn.  He  will  cancel  the  debt  I  owe  you,  which 
I  had  made  a  solemn  vow  to  pay.  But  I  have  promised, 
and  he  will  pay  it  for  me." 

"  Never,  Flora,  will  I  accept  such  a  price  for  my  fondest 
hopes.  Tell  him,  for  the  sake  of  humanity,  not  to  send  me 
the  bauble.  I  will  trample  it  under  my  feet.  Enough  that 
he  has  won  you  from  me  and  converted  my  future  into  a 
blank,  dismal  enough  to  look  upon,  but  infinitely  worse  to 
meet  face  to  face.  He  shall  not  add  a  new  bitterness  to  his 
infamous  work  by  such  a  proffer."  Then,  seeing  that  Flora 
looked  wildly  at  him,  he  continued :  "  I  must  leave  you. 
God  only  knows  the  sacrifice  of  heart,  as  I  bid  you  farewell, 
never  to  see  your  beautiful  face  again;"  and  he  raised  it 
gently  to  his  own,  imprinted  a  long,  ardent  kiss  upon  her 
pale  lips,  then  rushed  from  the  house. 

In  a  few  hours  afterward  he  took  the  night  boat  down  the 
river,  and  early  in  the  morning  landed  in  New  York  and 
proceeded  to  his  hotel. 

Lura.  who  had  come  to  spend  the  evening  with  Flora, 
entered  the  parlor  soon  after  the  door  had  closed  upon 
Edgarton,  and  found  her  friend  sitting  upon  the  sofa,  p;il- 
and  motionless,  where  he  had  left  her. 

"Flora,"  she  exclaimed,  darting  toward  her,  "hou 
etrangaly  you  look !  What  has  happened  to  you?" 

"Oh,  nothing,"  she  replied,  faintly.  "I  think  I  must 
have  fallen  asleep  and  dreamed." 

"  Or  seen  a  ghost,"  replied  Lura,  smiling.    She  knew  well 


300  THE  CRUSHED  PORQET-ME-NOT. 

that  Flora's  distress  was  in  some  way  connected  with  her 
late  visitor,  yei  forbore  to  question  her  further. 

Lura's  black  dress  told  plainly  that  the  particulars  of  the 
sinking  of  the  Arcadia  were  fully  known  to  her,  at  leatt  to 
the  extent  of  which  the  public  were  informed.  Her  surprise, 
however,  was  intense  when,  a  few  days  after  the  visitor's  de- 
parture, she  received  a  long  letter  from  an  unknown  hand, 
telling  her  of  the  arrival  of  her  brother  in  New  York,  hia 
helpless  and  pitiable  condition,  and  advising  her  as  soon  as 
convenient  to  visit  him. 

Full  of  suspense  and  sorrow  she  hastened  to  Flora  with 
the  sad  intelligence.  None  better  than  she  knew  what  hand 
had  penned  the  long,  sympathizing  epistle. 

"  I  shall  remain  with  him  a  week  longer,"  the  writer  said, 
in  closing,  "  then  sail  for  my  distant  home.  Hopes  are  en- 
tertained here  of  his  recovery,  and  your  presence  may  help 
much  to  speed  the  happy  result." 

Would  he,  then,  really  leave  her  ?  And  should  she  never 
see  him  again  ?  Oh,  how  her  heart  upbraided  her  for  such 
thoughts !  He  was  nothing  to  her,  nor  could  he  ever  be. 
Besides,  she  was  plighted  to  another,  whom  she  had  told 
Edgarton  she  was  to  marry.  But  now,  alone  again  with 
her  secret  thoughts,  her  once  formed  resolves  returned  to 
her.  She  would  never  marry :  "  He  is  too  good,  too  noble, 
to  be  thus  sacrificed.  Oh,  he  knows  not  the  bitterness  of 
euch  a  life,  springing  from  such  an  ignominious  source." 
No,  no!  why  had  her  shrinking,  sensitive  heart  been  ex- 
posed to  such  sore  trials  and  temptations?  God  alone 
knows  how  to  direct,  if  to  him  she  would  but  apply  for 
guidance. 

Mr.  Fenn  had  for  some  weeks  been  in  town,  and  was  an 
almost  daily  visitor  at  the  desolate  home  of  the  Lanes. 
His  presence  seemed  for  the  time  to  cheer  up  the  afflicted 
family,  and  to  drive  away  some  of  the  gloom  which  en- 
veloped them,  as  the  little  group  gathered  in  Mrs.  Lane's 


THE  CRUSHED  FORUET-ME-NOT.  301 

room  and  listened  while  he  read  or  related  some  pleasing 
incident  connected  with  his  history  or  travels. 

Flora  was  standing  alone  one  evening  by  the  window, 
where  the  family  had  not  yet  gathered,  looking  out  into 
the  street  below,  where  the  silent  snow  was  rapidly  fall- 
ing, covering  the  brick  walk  with  a  fleecy  carpet,  and  the 
ialconies,  steps  and  window-shutters  of  the  dim  old  house 
opposite  with  its  thin  white  covering.  She  was  thinking, 
not  of  the  falling  snow  or  the  closed  house  opposite  her, 
but  was  listlessly  dreaming,  her  mind  floating  out  upon  the 
vapory  sea  before  her,  and  tossing  with  languid  motion  upon 
its  undulating  waves,  veering  hit^r  and  thither  without  a 
guide,  aiming  at  no  definite  point,  dreaming,  vaguely  dream- 
ing, when  a  hand  was  laid  tenderly  upon  her  shoulder  and  a 
pair  of  dark,  beaming  eyes  looked  intently  into  her  troubled 
face. 

"  Flora,  my  precious  one,  you  are  not  well,"  said  Mr. 
Fenn,  pushing  back  her  curls  and  gazing  more  earnestly 
into  her  face.  "  I  have  been  watching  you  for  many  days, 
and  can  see  the  bloom  fading  from  your  cheeks,  the  languor 
creeping  into  your  brilliant  eyes,  and  can  but  feel  that  this 
is  no  place  for  my  petted  flower ;  she  will  fade  and  wither 
before  giving  her  consent  to  be  transplanted  to  a  more  genial 
clime." 

He  kissed  her  tenderly,  and  she  laid  her  little  white  hand 
as  a  token  of  response  upon  the  upturned  face  before  her. 
Oh,  she  could  not  grieve  his  affectionate  heart,  so  good,  so 
noble,  ever  thus  solicitous  for  her  happiness.  If  he  could 
only  know  the  bitterness  he  was  wooing  to  his  life's  cup, 
the  blight  he  seemed  anxious  to  introduce  into  his  home- 
bower,  he  might  yet  be  happy.  But  a  voice  seemed  audibly 
whispering  through  her  closed  heart, "  Not  yet,  not  yet,"  and 
yielding  to  the  impulse  which  swayed  her  for  the  moment, 
she  pressed  her  lips  affectionately  to  his  forehead. 

"  Your  watchful  eye  is  quite  too  keen,"  bhe  said,  playfully ; 
"  you  see  I  am  not  ill,  neither  do  I  at  present  experience 

24 


302  THE  CRUSHED  FORGET-ME-NOT. 

any  symptom  which  I  can  in  any  way  construe  into  the 
semblance  of  a  withering  process." 

"  Provoking  girl !"  he  whispered,  clasping  her  hand  tightly 
in  his  own  just  as  the  door  opened,  and  Mr.  Lane  entered, 
followed  by  Lura. 

"  This  girl,"  said  Mr.  Lane,  abruptly,  "  has  been  teasing 
me  to  go  to  New  York  with  her  next  week.  The  most 
absurd  idea  possible  I" 

"  I  cannot  see  the  absurdity  myself;  can  you,  Mr.  Fenn  ?" 
asked  Lura,  pleadingly.  "  It  is  so  unpleasant  to  think  of 
going  alone,  I  am  so  unused  to  traveling.  Besides,  it  would 
do  you  good ;  everybodysays  it  will." 

This  last  remark  proved  an  unlucky  hit.  What  did 
everybody  know  about  it?  or  what  business  had  they  to 
express  an  opinion  upon  the  subject  any  way  ?  He  would 
not  go ;  that  ended  it. 

And  it  did  end  it,  so  far  as  he  was  concerned,  but  Mr. 
Fenn  saw  in  Flora's  eyes  a  look  which  prompted  him  to 
ask  Miss  Lura  if  she  would  accept  his  escort,  and  allow 
him  to  protect  her  during  her  anticipated  visit  to  her 
brother.  And  he  added, 

"Perhaps  I  may  be  able  to  assist  you  in  your  good 
offices  toward  him.  If  so,  I  shall  only  be  too  happy  to 
aid  you." 

Lura  blushed  deeply.  Fl6ra  thought,  "How  can  any 
one  think  she  is  not  decidedly  pretty  ?"  but  she  hastened 
to  the  rescue. 

"  It  will  be  so  pleasant  for  you,  Lura,  and  all  your 
anticipated  troubles  will  vanish  with  such  an  experienced 
escort." 

After  some  deliberation  and  hesitation,  it  was  finally 
arranged  that  Mr.  Fenn  should  accompany  her  on  the 
following  Monday. 

Well  did  Flora  comprehend  the  perplexities  which  were 
before  her  friend.  A  second  settlement  was  to  be  effected 
with  her  publisher,  and  Mr.  Fenn  did  not  yet  know  who  waa 


THE  CRUSHED  FORQET-ME-NOT.  303 

the  honored  author  of  "  Thorny  Way."  Another  manuscript 
was  nearly  finished,  which  she  was  to  submit  for  exami- 
nation. But  more  than  this,  or  the  excitement  of  meeting 
her  poor  unfortunate  brother,  was  the  hidden  love  that  lay 
buried  deep  in  her  young  heart  for  him  who  was  to  be  her 
constant  companion  during  her  short  absence.  This,  how- 
i^ver,  he  knew  not. 

But  Flora  did  not  tremble  for  her  friend's  happiness,  as 
she  would  have  done  had  she  not  known  the  strength  of 
her  firm  will. 

"Poor  Lura!"  she  often  murmured  to  herself — "poor 
Lura !  How  hard  it  must  be  to  Jove  an  object  beyond 
one's  reach !"  and  tear,}  started  to  her  eyes. 


CHAPTER   XXXVII. 
THE  OLD  LOVE  AND  THE  NEW. 

is  a  letter  advertised  in  the  morning  papers 

JL  for  Flora  Hawes,"  Mr.  Lane  quietly  remarked,  as  he 
seated  himself  at  the  breakfast-table.  "You  had  better 
Bend  Jim  after  it ;  he  can  get  it  while  you  are  taking  your 
breakfast." 

In  a  moment  more  that  important  functionary  had  bowed 
his  assent  to  Flora's  request,  and  with  his  invariable  "  Cer- 
tainly," started  with  lengthy  strides  in  the  direction  of  the 
post-office. 

"  From  whom  can  it  be?"  thought  Flora;  "certainly  not 
from  him.  Oh  no !" 

Yet  her  heart  would  beat  a  little  quicker,  as  the  thought 
came  again  and  again.  It  could  not  be  from  Mr.  Fenn,  for 
he  knew  the  address ;  besides,  she  had  received  one  from 
him  last  evening,  and  to-day  the  absentees  were  expected 
to  return. 

In  the  midst  of  her  wondering  the  messenger  returned, 
and  placed  in  her  hands  the  mysterious  epistle.  No,  it  was 
not  from  either,  and  she  hastily  broke  the  seal.  "  From 
Anna !"  she  exclaimed,  with  joyful  surprise,  as  she  turned 
to  observe  the  signature. 

Mr.  Lane  dropped  his  fork  and  settled  himself  back  r . 
his  chair  with  a  look  of  interest  upon  his  face.  Harry 
smiled  and  said  it  was  "just  like  her  to  remember  us," 
while  Flora  continued  the  perusal. 

"  Coming  to  see  us — perhaps  Christmas  week,"  she  re- 
marked, calmly,  as  she  turned  the  page. 

Mr.  Lane  sighed,  arose  and  left  the  room. 

J04 


THE  OLD  LOVE  AND  THE  NEW.  305 

Flora  read  on. 

"  Well,"  she  remarked,  at  last,  laying  it  upon  the  table, 
"  I  do  not  exactly  understand  this  matter." 

"Some  little  feminine  secret,  I  suppose?"  remarked 
Harry,  with  a  good-natured  smile,  as  he  arose  to  leave. 
"  She  will  wonder,  and  perhaps  make  the  same  exclama- 
tion that  you  just  now  did,  when  she  hears  that  you  are 
not  to  become  the  Englishman's  bride,  but  the  wife  of  our 
staid  bachelor  friend." 

He  did  not  perceive  the  look  of  annoyance  upon  Flora's 
face,  and  taking  up  the  morning  paper,  seated  himself  by 
the  window,  while  she  hurried  away  to  Mrs.  Lane's  room. 

The  poor  sufferer  had  not  yet  arisen,  and  the  apartment 
was  dark  and  cheerless  in  the  extreme.  Every  ray  of  the 
morning  sun  that  was  shining  so  brightly  in  the  street  was 
excluded,  as  she  was  not  able  to  endure  its  effect  upon  her 
sensitive  nerves,  and  all  but  Flora  seemed  anxious  to  shun 
the  gloom  which  surrounded  her. 

"Are  you  awake?"  Flora  asked,  as  the  nead  moved 
slowly  upon  the  pillow. 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  so,  notwithstanding  I  prayed  earnestly 
before  I  slept  that  I  might  never  wake  again." 

"Ask  for  patience,  my  dear,  and  see  if  you  will  not 
receive  it.  God  knows  best  what  you  most  need.  Ask 
according  to  his  will,  and  it  shall  be  given  you."  She 
kissed  the  thin  pale  face  cheerfully.  "Just  try  to  guess 
from  whom  I  have  received  a  letter  this  morning.  I  will 
read  it  to  you  if  you  wish  to  hear  it." 

"  From  some  one  that  loves  you,  I  'suppose  ?  I  remember 
when  I  had  such,  but  I  have  not  now.  Let  the  lovely,  the 
beautiful,  the  adored,  but  become  helplessly  dependent 
upon  even  the  one  most  devout  worshiper,  and  idolatry 
will  suddenly  and  most  unaccountably  turn  to  scorn  and 
bitter  contempt.  Do  I  not  know  it  ?  When  in  my  beauty 
and  pride  I  was  an  ornament  to  this  establishment,  did  not 
my  husband  cherish  and  protect  and,  it  may  be,  love  me  ? 


806       THE  OLD  LOVE  AND  THE  NEW. 

He  found  me  in  obscurity,  contending  with  poverty,  as  a 
humble  sewing-girl,  and  raised  me  to  his  high  position  in 
society  because  I  was  beautiful  and  added  to  the  attractions 
of  his  home.  Now  my  power  is  gone,  and  with  it  his  love, 
his  kindness.  Oh,  Flora,  you  can  talk  of  patience,  pray  for 
it,  but  as  for  me,  the  grave  is  my  only  refuge ;"  and  covering 
her  wasted  face  with  her  hand,  she  wept  bitterly. 

"  Do  not,"  Flora  pleaded ;  "  you  are  mistaken  when  you 
•ay  your  power  over  your  husband  is  gone  because  you 
cannot  adorn  his  home.  There  is  oni  beauty  with  which 
you  can  yet  charm  him — one  grace  more  winsome  than  any 
other  which  ever  shone  in  face  and  figure.  Shall  I  tell  you 
what  it  is  ?  It  is  a  Christian  character,  given  to  us  only  by 
the  Father  of  our  spirits,  who  generously  throws  over  our 
fading  charms  the  adornment  of  purity  and  love  which 
pleases  every  beholder  and  sheds  around  us  in  our  every- 
day walk  a  halo  of  peace  and  the  brightness  of  a  fadeless 
hope.  Looking  through  this  veil  of  deformities  of  life's 
senseless  annoying,  and  every  bitter  draught  that  is  placed 
to  our  lips  has  within  its  liquid  depths  a  counteracting 
sweet  which  our  hearts  tell  us  was  added  by  a  Father's  love. 
Will  you  not  seek  it?  In  this  little  room,  darkly  curtained 
as  it  now  is,  there  would  then  spring  up  a  light  which  would 
dispel  the  gloom  throughout  this  desolate  home,  and  even 
from  the  heart  of  your  disconsolate  husband." 

"I  will  try,"  was  the  whispered  response;  and  with 
clasped  hands  fervently  raised,  Flora  prayed  for  strength 
to  crown  the  feeble  resolve  with  the  most  happy  results. 
The  letter  had  been  forgotten,  and  without  another  word 
she  placed  it  in  her  pocket. 

The  kind  offices  of  a  nurse  in  this  apartment  she  assumed 
morning  and  evening,  and  most  faithfully  did  she  acquit 
herself.  Unusual  care  was  displayed  in  the  arrangement 
of  all  the  luxuries  and  adornings  on  this  occasion*  for  other 
eyes  would  look  upon  them,  as  the  evening  circle  was  again 
gathered  there.  The  day  seemed  longer  than  usual,  and 


THE  OLD  LOVE  AND  THE  NEW.  307 

the  school  duties  more  difficult,  as  the  excitements  of  the 
morning  and  the  anticipations  of  the  evening  engrossed  her 
thoughts.  The  week  had  been  lonely  without  Lura.  Was 
there  no  other  emotion  in  her  trusting  heart?  Did  she 
long  to  hear  again  those  affectionate  words  that  ever  guided 
her,  to  see  once  more  those  looks  of  love  that  beamed  upon 
her  when  he  was  near?  She  smiled  a  happy,  contented 
smile,  as  her  heart  responded,  "  Yes,  I  have  been  thinking 
all  the  time  that  you  were  away." 

"Flora,  about  that  letter  you  received  this  morning?" 
said  Mrs.  Lane,  as  she  felt  a  hand  upon  her  head  and 
heard  the  cheerful  words  of  greeting. 

"  I  will  get  it  and  read  it  to  you  now,"  she  said,  turning 
to  leave  the  room. 

"  No,  no ;  do  not  leave  me.  Tell  me  its  contents.  It  will 
do  just  as  well.  From  whom  was  it?" 

"  Anna — our  dear  Anna ;  and  she  speaks  of  visiting  us  at 
Christmas,  or  perhaps  not  till  spring.  She  is  very  happy, 
and  her  husband  is  the  kindest  and  best,  of  course,  and  her 
home  a  paradise  of,  etc.,  etc.  But  her  great  object  in  writing 
is  the  strange  part  of  it.  It  seems  that  in  her  early  girlhood 
she  had  a  particular  friend  who  was  unfortunate  in  the 
bestowal  of  her  affections,  and  at  an  early  age  became  the 
mother  of  a  child.  She  afterward  married,  was  again  de- 
serted and  left  to  struggle  through  her  short  life  in  poverty 
and  shame.  For  reasons  which  Anna  will  hereafter  explain, 
her  husband  is  anxious  to  find  the  child  which  she  left,  as 
it  is  positively  ascertained  that  the  mother  is  dead.  '  You 
may  think  it  very  strange,'  Anna  goes  on  to  say, '  but  from 
one  or  two  slight  reasons  which  I  cannot  explain  to  you 
fully  now,  I  am  led  to  believe  that  the  poor  child  whom 
you  found  and  rescued  at  the  expense  of  your  home  and 
happiness,  and  whom  you  afterward  nursed  with  such  tender 
care,  is  the  same  child,  and  the  one  whom  we  would  gladly 
find.  Will  you  ask  her  if  her  mother's  name  was  not  Mary 
Wood?  Wo  shall  wait  very  impatiently  for  your  answer.1 


308  THE  OLD  LOVE  AND  THE  NEW. 

How  very  strange  it  would  be,"  added  Flora,  "  if  she  should 
prove  to  be  the  one !" 

"  It  is  certainly  strange,  and  I  only  hope  it  will  be  so," 
laid  Mrs.  Lane. 

There  was  something  in  the  tone  of  her  voice  that  made 
her  listener  rejoice.  It  was  not  cheerfulness,  but  a  calm 
quietness,  a  resigned  sweetness,  that  filled  Flora's  anxious 
ear  with  sounds  as  of  winning  music. 

There  was  an  unusual  light  beaming  from  Lura's  eyes, 
and  a  deeper  expression  of  determined  will  overspread  her 
features,  that  night,  as  the  carriage  stopped  for  a  moment 
before  Mrs.  Lane's  residence,  that  a  word  of  greeting  might 
be  exchanged  with  Flora  before  it  passed  on  to  the  seminary, 
where  she  was  now  a  pupil  and  boarder.  Flora's  keen  eye 
perceived  this,  and  a  feeling  of  pity  arose  in  her  heart,  as 
she  thought,  "  Oh,  how  she  loves  him !" 

"  I  fear  I  am  jealous,"  remarked  Mr.  Fenn,  as  he  pressed 
his  lips  lovingly  to  Flora's,  "for  somehow  I  coveted  the 
joyful  greeting  you  bestowed  upon  Lura.  Were  you  more 
glad  to  see  her  than  me  ?"  He  was  looking  into  her  face 
now,  and  the  love  that  shone  from  his  dark  hazel  eyes 
penetrated  her  soul. 

Dropping  her  head  upon  his  bosom,  she  murmured, 

"  No,  I  am  very  happy  to  see  you  again." 

"  Precious  one !"  and  he  pressed  to  his  heart  the  beautiful 
^ead  that  lay  so  trustingly  above  it.  Seating  her  beside 
himself,  he  placed  in  her  hand*  a  package  which  he  had 
brought  with  him. 

"Permit  me  to  open  it,"  he  said,  perceiving  that  she 
hesitated.  "Its  external  appearance  does  not  seem  very 
inviting." 

A  small  ebon}'  box  inlaid  with  pearl  was  soon  disclosed. 
Floia  did  not  speak  or  move.  A  sudden  faintness  cams 
creeping  over  her. 

"  Oh,  how  I  have  wronged  him !"  she  mentally  exclaimed. 
"So  noble,  so  good,  and  I  BO  utterly  umvorthy  of  him  I" 


THE  OLD  LOVE  AND  THE  NEW. 

A  small  spring  was  touched,  and  the  box  lay  open  before 
her.  A  whole  set  of  diamonds,  together  with  a  watch  and 
most  -oxquisitely  wrought  chain,  was  presented  to  her  view. 

"  A  present  to  my  queen,"  said  Mr.  Fenn,  bending  to  kiss 
her.  "  Does  she  not  think  they  are  very  pretty  ?  Let  me 
try  on  the  ring ;"  and  he  took  the  delicate  hand  in  his  own 
and  placed  the  jewel  upon  her  ringer.  "  Too  large !  That's 
too  bad !"  and  a  shade  of  regret  passed  over  his  face. 

He  had  not  looked  into  Flora's  face  till  this  moment 
during  the  unpacking. 

"My  darling  one,  what  distresses  you?"  he  exclaimed, 
with  astonishment.  "Do  you  not  admire  my  gift?  Oh, 
tell  me  why  you  look  so  sad,  so  distressed  ?" 

"  You  are  so  kind,  so  good,  and  I  am  so  unworthy  of 
your  love,"  she  whispered,  as  the  tears  filled  her  eyes.  "  I 
did  not  mean  to  deceive  you.  I  do  love  you  most  tenderly, 
most  truly ;"  and  she  wound  her  arms  about  his  neck. 

"  You  distress  me.  What  do  you  mean  by  not  deceiving 
me?  Do  not  tear  from  my  heart  the  last  tie  of  affection 
or  faith  that  binds  it  to  your  sex.  I  will  never  trust  an- 
other, if  you  are  not  all  purity  and  truth.  Do  not  tell  me 
that  you  have  harbored  a  deceptive  thought  toward  me — 
you,  who  would  not  accept  my  love  until  I  knew  from  your 
own  lips  the  stain  that  rested  upon  your  history,  which  you 
had  reason  to  suppose  was  unknown  to  me.  The  confidence 
I  then  reposed  in  you  was  sufficient  to  blot  out  every  other 
consideration.  Can  you  tell  me  now  that  you  have  ever 
deceived  me?  Speak,  Flora!  Saiie,  if  you  will,  the  heart 
you  healed  and  filled  with  a  joy  it  never  knew  before,  for  it 
cannot  long  endure  the  suspense." 

Tears  had  been  falling  fast  from  her  eyes  while  he  was 
speaking,  but  a  new  thought  sealed  the  fountain  for  a  while, 
and  she  raised  her  head  from  his  shoulder  with  their  traces 
only  upon  her  cheeks. 

"Oh,  if  you  knew  how  well  I  loved  you,  how  happy 
your  love  has  ever  made  nie,  you  would  not,  I  am 


310      THE  OLD  LOVE  AND  THE  NEW. 

censure  me  for  wnat  I  am  about  to  tell  you.  Ha  ve  I  not 
heard  you  say  you  once  loved  another  ?  I  knew  it  the  day 
we  rode  away  from  our  darling  Kitty's  grave,  and  I  pitied 
and  lovad  you  even  then.  Will  you  condemn  me  because 
I  too  have  loved,  before  I  knew  you — one  too,  it  may  be, 
not  half  as  good  and  noble  as  yourself?  Yet  I  loved  him 
with  all  the  ardor  of  a  newly-awakened  heart  until  I  sup- 
posed him  false  to  me,  when  I  strove  to  tear  his  image  from 
my  thoughts  and  to  forget  that  I  had  ever  known  him. 
Then  how  soothing  was  the  brotherly  affection  which  you 
bestowed !  More  precious  it  became  to  me  every  day,  lonely 
and  desolate  as  I  had  become,  until  you  offered  me  your 
jove.  Two  weeks  ago  I  found  how  little  I  understood  my- 
self. Charles  Edgarton  appeared  before  me  in  this  room, 
and  the  slumbering  affection  I  had  borne  him  was  aroused. 
He  told  me  of  treachery,  of  wrongs  that  had  been  done  us, 
spoke  of  his  love,  which  he  declared  was  still  mine,  and 
then  bade  me  farewell  for  ever — yes,  for  ever.  I  could  not 
tell  you.  How  could  I  endure  the  pang  of  losing  you 
also  ?  But  the  ring  has  awakened  my  better  nature.  I  can- 
not wear  it.  Do  not  ask  me." 

Mr.  Fenn  had  sunk  back  upon  the  sofa  on  which  he  was 
sitting,  his  head  resting  upon  his  hand,  and  with  his  closed 
eyes  and  lips  pale  and  immovable.  He  looked  the  very 
picture  of  despair  and  wretchedness. 

"  Oh,  please  do  not  look  so  sad,"  she  murmured,  bending 
over  him  and  laying  her  hand  caressingly  upon  his  face. 
"  It  will  break  my  heart  to  see  you  sorrowful.  What  a  fate 
is  mine,  that  I  should  be  obliged  with  my  own  hands  to 
tear  away  the  last  of  hope  or  happiness  from  my  existence  I 
You  would  have  hated  me  if  I  had  not  told  you,  and  in 
telling  you  I  lose  your  love  for  ever."  She  kissed  his  fore- 
head, while  her  tears  fell  hot  upon  his  face. 

"No,  Flora,''  he  answered,  arousing  himself — "no;  you 
laid  truly  I  had  a  former  love,  and  for  this  reason  I  forgive 
you,  I  cannot  spare  yours,  and  your  plea  for  miue  is  very 


THE  OLD  LOVE  AND  THE  NEW.  311 

iweet  to  me.  Take  this  box;  and  when  the  love  which 
youi  words  have  led  me  to  believe  has  been  aroused  in 
your  heart,  surpassing  that  which  you  bore  for  me,  shall 
again  be  hushed  to  sleep,  place  upon  your  finger  the  ring, 
and  this  hour  shall  be  blotted  from  my  memory,  and  Flora 
shall  reign  queen  in  my  heart  once  more.  Shall  it  be  so  ?" 
He  smoothed  back  the  curls  from  her  forehead,  and  awaited 
her  reply. 

"  Oh,  if  I  were  not  an  Indian  girl !"  she  murmured,  at 
last.  "  Every  one  will  despise  me.  Even  now  it  is  hissed 
into  my  ear  upon  every  side.  You  cannot  love  one  whom 
everybody  despises,  and  on  whose  account  every  one  will 
point  the  finger  of  scorn  at  you.  How  much  better  for  you 
had  your  eyes  never  beheld  me !  How  much  better  for  me 
had  I  been  permitted  to  live  and  die  in  the  land  where  I 
was  born,  and  among  the  people  that  would  have  acknow- 
ledged and  loved  me !" 

She  was  calm  now,  and  a  peaceful  serenity  came  stealing 
into  her  heart,  for  it  was  unburdened  now  of  its  heavy  load. 
He  knew  all,  yet  he  did  not  hate  her  or  prepare  to  leave  her 
for  ever,  as  she  had  feared.  There  he  sat,  still  beside,  her, 
one  arm  encircling  her  waist,  one  hand  clasping  her  own. 
No,  he  would  not  leave  her ;  his  love  was  not  to  be  with- 
drawn entirely  from  her.  Yet  what  would  she  not  have 
givep  to  possess  the  power  that  should  drive  the  shadow 
from  his  brow,  and  make  him  as  happy  as  one  short  hour 
before  he  had  been  1 

"  Flora,  you  do  not  withdraw  your  promise  to  be  mine. 
Much  as  your  confession  grieves  me,  I  believe  we  can  yet 
be  happy,  very  happy,  if  you  do  not  thrust  my  love  from 
you.  You  said  that  Edgarton  bade  you  farewell  for  ever. 
Pardon  me  if  I  tell  you  why.  He  is  to  be  married  in  a  few 
weeks  to  an  English  lady  to  whom,  as  my  informant  assured 
me,  he  has  been  long  betrothed.  Will  you  not  forget  the 
love  you  once  bore  him,  and  prove  true  to  the  vow§  you 
have  plighted  to  me  ?" 


312        THE  OLD  LOVE  AND  THE  NEW. 

Her  answer  in  a  measure  brought  back  the  joy  to  his  eyei 
and  dispelled  the  shadow  that  had  been  lingering  upon  his 
face.  The  ring  was  returned  to  its  place  in  the  casket,  which 
Flora  bore  away  to  its  hiding-place. 

A  letter  was  lying  upon  the  table  in  Lura's  room,  as  she 
entered.  It  was  from  her  mother. 

"My  dear  daughter" — thus  it  began — "you  may  be  as- 
tonished at  receiving  this  letter  from  me,  after  all  that  has 
passed,  but  a  heart  as  truly  maternal  in  its  affection  as  mine 
can  never  forget  her  child,  however  erring.  I  am  sorry  that 
circumstances  prevented  your  accompanying  us  in  our  visit, 
and  should,  notwithstanding  your  perverseness,  have  invited 
you  to  do  so,  had  it  been  convenient  for  us  to  take  you. 
We  are  still  guests  at  Edgarton  Hall,  and  have  met  with 
my  brother  and  cousin  at  a  dinner-party  given  to  us,  and 
both  have  extended  invitations  to  us.  Lena  is  quite  a 
belle,  and  the  only  son  of  Cousin  George,  who  will  be  very 
wealthy,  is  paying  her  marked  attentions.  I  hope  that  she 
will  be  invited  to  accompany  them  in  their  tour  over  the 
Continent,  which  they  are  soon  to  commence.  In  fact,  I 
feel  very  sure  that  she  will,  and  have  sent  home  for  the 
remnant  of  our  small  fortune,  which  your  father  would  not 
permit  us  to  touch,  although  we  needed  it  so  much,  that  she 
may  be  furnished  with  the  necessary  wardrobe.  Should  she 
return  the  betrothed  of  George  Carrington,  I  shall  not  trouble 
myself  to  go  back  to  Pleasant  Cottage,  but  shall  order  it  sold 
and  remain  here,  as  our  fortunes  will  be  secured. 

"  I  suppose  you  heard  through  the  papers  of  the  terrible 
shipwreck.  Your  poor  father  is  gone,  and  your  mother  is 
left  a  lonely  widow.  Edgar,  too,  poor  boy  1  I  suppose  he 
was  never  found  after  he  floated  away  in  the  open  life-boat, 
or  we  should  have  heard  from  him.  It  is  dreadful !  I  pre- 
sume you  would  like  to  hear  from  us  occasionally,  so  I  will 
write." 

"This  from  my  mother!"  thought  Lura,  as  she  finished 
the  heartless  letter.  Then  her  meditation*  cecjtred  upoa 


THE  OLD  LOVE  AND  THE  NEW.      313 

the  mystery  that  seemed  so  strangely  to  envelop  her 
brother.  How  should  he  be  here,  and  they  know  nothing 
about  him  ? 

During  her  visit  Edgar  had  mentioned  the  name  of  Edgar- 
ton  in  connection  with  his  arrival  at  the  asylum,  and  she 
had  half  determined  from  his  incoherent  expressions  that 
it  was  to  him  also  that  she  was  indebted  for  the  letter  which 
gave  her  information  of  his  situation.  But  how  could  this 
be,  and  they  know  nothing  about  it?  Perplexed  beyond 
measure  by  the  mystery  which  she  could  not  unravel,  she 
determined  to  communicate  her  suspicions  to  Flora  on  the 
morrow,  thinking  that  she  perhaps  might  aid  her. 

Flora  blushed  deeply  when  the  whole  matter  was  laid 
before  her,  but  she  answered,  quietly, 

"I  believe  with  you  that  Edgarton  accompanied  your 
brother  to  New  York  and  wrote  you  concerning  him,  yet 
I  have  no  positive  proof.  The  writing,  however  " — and  her 
voice  sank  lower — u  looked  familiar  and  awakened  my  sus- 
picions when  I  first  saw  it." 

So  the  mystery  remained  a  mystery  still,  and  Flora 
and  Lura  floated  on  till  the  next  billow  should  sweep 
over  them. 

Christmas  came  and  went.  A  letter  from  Anna  reached 
them,  postponing  her  visit  till  spring.  When  the  first  roses 
were  in  bloom  upon  her  mother's  grave,  she  would  be  there 
to  gather  them.  As  time  passed  on,  true  to  her  promise, 
she  came.  It  was  a  lovely  day,  and  Uncle  Billy,  who  had 
not  forgotten  his  pretty  "  shipmates,"  had  just  returned  from 
his  first  trip  to  New  York  for  the  season,  laden,  as  was  hia 
wont,  with  a  basketful  of  nice  dainties,  which  he  handed  in 
to  Mrs.  Lane's  for  both  of  them  just  as  Flora  came  tripping 
up  the  marble  steps  to  greet  him.  Turning  to  bid  him. 
good-bye  for  the  third  time,  she  saw  a  gentleman  and  lady 
approaching. 

"  My  stars !"  exclaimed  Uncle  Billy,  as  he  caught  sight  of 
them  ;  ,"  that's  Anna,  ae  sura  a*  I'm.  alivo!"  - 


314       THE  OLD  LOVE  AND  THE  NEW. 

And  she,  indeed,  it  was,  leaning  wearily  upon  the  arm  of 
her  husband. 

Flora  bounded  forward  to  welcome  them.  Uncle  Billy 
too  clasped  the  little  extended  hand  tightly  in  his  broad 
sunburnt  palm,  while  he  exacted  a  promise  from  Flora 
that  Anna  should  have  half  of  the  bananas;  "For  you 
remember,"  he  said,  "  how  she  used  to  love  them."  Lura 
was  sent  for,  and  Mr.  Fenn  coming  in  as  usual,  a  pleasant 
circle  was  made  up  in  Mrs.  Lane's  room,  busily  engaged  in 
conversing  upon  the  varied  events  which  had  transpired 
since  their  last  meeting. 

Two,  however,  sat  apart  from  the  rest,  conversing  in  a 
low  tone,  though  not  less  earnestly,  Herbert  Travers  and 
Flora. 

"  I  knew  that  you  would  be  desirous  to  understand  why 
we  were  so  anxious  to  find  the  friendless  orphan ;  and  as 
none  but  yourself  could  be  interested  in  the  particulars,  I 
thought  that  I  would  tell  you  as  soon  as  possible.  You 
remember  the  unfortunate  young  man  that  fell  by  my  hand 
a  few  years  ago,  for  which  act  my  life  would  have  paid  the 
forfeit  if  you  had  not  saved  me?  He  was  the  father  of 
Clara  Saunders,  who  bore  her  mother's  name  until  after 
her  marriage  with  Harry  Saunders,  when  she  took  that 
of  her  stepfather.  I  have  for  a  long  time  wished  to  make 
restitution  in  some  degree  for  what  the  world  called  my 
inhuman  act,  and  not  entirely  without  reason,  as  my  con- 
science has  often  told  me ;  so  with  Anna's  earnest  co-opera- 
tion, I  have  determined  to  adopt  the  orphan  child  and  be  a 
kind  and  affectionate  father  to  her.  This  is  all  which  is  left 
me  to  do,  and  with  God's  help,  it  shall  be  most  faithfully 
performed." 

"  This  is  good  news  indeed,"  replied  Flora,  joyfully.  "  I 
have  felt  much  anxiety  for  her,  but  with  Anna's  gentle  train- 
ing and  your  watchful  care  all  will  be  well." 

Much  niDrc  was  said,  and  many  questions  asked  and 
answered,  reaching  far  back  into  the  past,  which  awakened 


THE  OLD  LOVE  AND  THE  NEW.  SIB 

memories  and  called  up  scenes  connected  with  the  island 
that  lay  tranquilly  sleeping  on  the  bosom  of  the  lake. 
But  the  approach  of  Mr.  Fenn  drove  back  these  pleasantly 
awakened  memories  to  their  silent  shades,  and  shut  out 
their  retrospective  glances  from  old-time  associations  and 
surroundings. 

"Can  you  admit  a  third  person  to  your  t6te-h-tite fn  he 
asked,  laying  his  hand  upon  Flora's  head. 

"  Certainly,"  she  replied.  "  I  want  to  tell  you  of  an  in- 
vitation I  have  just  received  to  visit  New  London.  Mr. 
Travers  is  to  adopt  my  little  protegee,  as  you  always  call 
her,  and  has  invited  me  to  come  and  see  what  a  fine  lady 
they  have  made  of  her,  when  she  is  eighteen.  As  she  is 
but  seven  now,  I  shall  not  be  under  the  necessity  of  hurry- 
ing my  toilet  for  the  journey." 

In  another  week  Clara  Saunders  had  departed  with  her 
new  friends  to  their  Connecticut  home,  where  others  were 
ready  to  receive  the  lonely  orphan,  and  to  commiserate  her 
bereaved  state. 

"  Ah,  selfish,  selfish  man !  Where  is  the  sympathy  which 
God  implanted  in  thy  heart  and  bade  thee  cherish  and 
maintain  for  thy  soul's  sake?  What  ruthless  hand  has 
snapped  the  cords  that  bound  thy  better  life  to  this,  and 
left  the  image  of  its  Creator  to  float  alone  out  upon  the 
turbulent  waves  of  an  ever-changing  sea  ?  Conscience  thun- 
ders, '  Thy  hand  hath  done  the  deed !' " 

Thus  mused  Herbert,  as  he  folded  to  his  manly  bosom 
the  little  child  who  had  been  made  fatherless  by  his  hand. 
Now  he  was  fulfilling  the  vow  he  had  made  to  his  Creator 
and  to  himself,  when  his  prison  doors  were  opened  and  the 
world  once  more  lay  broad  and  bright  before  him — some 
deed  should  somewhere  mark  his  future  that  would  shoot 
bright  rays  athwart  the  dark  clouds  that  rested  so  heavily 
down  upon  his  heart.  He  had  been  pardoned ;  so  would 
he  pardon,  and  henceforth  his  hand  should  be  open  and 
active,  in  deeds  of  love  and  mercy  alone. 


CHAPTER   XXXVIII. 

THE  REVELATION. 

IN  the  suburbs  of  Montreal  stands  a  large  stone  mansion 
nearly  hidden  from  the  covetous  gaze  of  the  passer  by 
on  the  broad  main  street  by  the  dense  shade  of  the  large 
old  trees  which  stand  as  stern  sentinels  all  around  the  ex- 
tensive grounds,  and  by  the  luxuriant  shrubs  and  flowering 
plants  that  cover  the  broad  level  lawn  beneath.  On  either 
side  a  narrow  street  turns  off  at  right  angles,  and  from  these 
a  closer  view  may  be  had  of  the  palatial  walls,  and  the  eye 
can  be  fed  with  the  sight  of  rich,  rare  fruits,  of  arbors  covered 
with  clustering  vines  and  of  well-filled  gardens  skillfully 
arranged  and  carefully  tended,  yielding  all  the  tempting 
delicacies  that  can  be  produced  in  that  northern  clime. 

At  the  foot  of  the  garden  is  a  small  cottage,  tastefully 
decorated  with  honeysuckles  and  sweet  brier,  from  which 
a  delicious  fragrance  was  wafted  through  the  open  window 
into  the  little  square  room  in  which  upon  a  couch  covered 
with  purest  white  an  aged  female  lay  pale  and  still,  as 
though  the  fell  destroyer  had  been  there  and  torn  her  life 
away.  Beside  her  sat  a  young  maiden  with  eyes  dark  and 
piercing  and  lips  thin  and  tightly  pressed  together,  while 
her  brow,  which  bore  marks  of  the  restless  spirit  within, 
was  shaded  by  heavy  folds  of  black  hair,  which  imparted 
to  her  somewhat  of  an  imperious  look,  as  she  steadily  gazed 
upon  the  pale  face  before  her. 

"  Dora,"  whispered  a  low  voice  from  the  bed. 

"  I  am  here,  mother ;"  and  the  girl  arose,  inclined  her  ear 
to  the  pallid  lips  and  waited  for  her  to  speak. 


THE  REVELATION.  317 

The  eyes  were  suddenly  opened ;  and  with  their  burning 
gaze  fixed  upon  the  bowed  face  so  near  hers,  the  woman 
exclaimed,  in  a  smothered  tone. 

"  I  am  not  dead.  You  need  not  listen  as  though  you 
were  tc  hear  a  voice  from  the  other  world.  I  want  you  to 
toll  Arthur  to  come  to  me.  I  am  ready  now.  Go,  child ; 
I  must  see  him.  Tell  him  to  come  to  me  quickly." 

Without  a  word  the  girl  turned  to  depart. 

"  You  may  stay  then,"  continued  the  mother,  grasping 
her  daughter's  sleeve.  "  I  shall  not  want  you  until  Arthur 
leaves  me." 

Dora  bowed,  while  the  frowns  rested  more  heavily  upon 
her  brow,  as  she  left  the  house.  A  short  time  after,  a  middle- 
aged  gentleman  came  hurrying  down  the  garden  walk,  which 
wound  among  the  trees,  emerging  here  and  there  from  the 
vine-covered  arbors,  until  he  stood  at  the  cottage  door,  where 
he  hesitated  for  a  moment  before  entering  into  the  presence 
of  her  in  obedience  to  whose  summons  he  had  come.  In 
stature  he  was  a  little  below  the  medium  height,  yet  well 
formed,  and  he  bore  about  him  the  indisputable  air  of  a 
well-bred  gentleman.  The  jetty  curls  that  clustered  around 
his  high,  broad  forehead  had  here  and  there  a  silver  thread 
scattered .  among  them,  which  caused  the  observer  to  take 
another  look  at  the  open  face,  upon  which  Time  had  not 
traced  a  single  line  to  mark  the  flight  of  years.  He  might 
have  been  forty,  yet  there  were  many  who  declared  that  he 
had  never  seen  his  thirtieth  birthday. 

"  Well,  I  am  here,  Aunt  Katy,"  he  said,  advancing  to  the 
bed  and  taking  the  emaciated  hand  that  was  lying  motion- 
less upon  the  white  counterpane.  "  Dora  said  that  you  had 
sent  for  me." 

"Yes,"  she  replied,  turning  her  head  feebly  upon  the 
pillow ;  "  the  time  has  come  at  last,  and  I  release  you  from 
all  the  promises,  the  vows,  the  oaths,  with  which  I  have 
kept  you  bound  these  five  long  years  or  more.  Go,  claim 
her;  she  is  yours." 

S7» 


318  THE  REVELATION. 

A  light  of  joy  suddenly  darted  across  his  face,  as  she 
uttered  these  words,  but  he  replied,  calmly, 

"  Thank  you,  my  old  friend ;  but  it  grieves  me  to  think 
that  my  great  happiness  must  come  through  such  a  heavy 
trial  as  the  loss  of  my  dear  old  nurse." 

"  Do  not  scorch  my  departing  soul  with  words  of  endear- 
1  ent.  Yet  God  knows  I  have  loved  you.  One  temptation 
alone  in  the  wide  world  had  the  power  to  make  me  false  to 
your  happiness,  and  that  was  thrust  before  me." 

"  Do  not  speak  of  the  past.  Life  is  short  with  you ;  look 
to  the  future  for  consolation  and  refuge." 

She  shook  her  head  mournfully. 

"Shall  I  send  Dora  to  you?"  he  asked,  as  if  about  to 
leave. 

"  Do  you  not  wish  to  know  more  of  that  dreadful  secret 
which  was  locked  in  my  heart  for  so  many  years,  burning 
my  life  away  ?" 

"  Once  I  pleaded  with  you  for  it,"  he  answered,  firmly, 
41  but  you  refused.  Now  you  are  too  feeble  to  talk  much 
with  me,  and  I  will  be  content  with  the  great  joy  you  have 
given  me." 

"  Unlock  that  upper  drawer  with  the  key  that  lies  upon 
the  bureau,  and  bring  me  a  box  you  will  find  there,"  she 
whispered,  for  her  voice  was  failing. 

He  obeyed ;  and  taking  from  her  bosom  a  key  that  was 
hung  about  her  neck  by  a  faded  ribbon,  she  bade  him  open 
the  box.  Beneath  a  pile  of  papers  that  were  yellowed  and 
Boiled  she  found  a  package,  and  placing  it  in  his  hands, 
eaid, 

"  There !  take  it.  Ten  years  ago  I  penned  it  with  my  own 
hand,  and  here  in  this  solemn  hour  I  reaffirm  its  truth. 
Read  it  when  you  like ;  but  after  you  know  all,  command 
your  heart  to  forgive  your  old  friend,  who  loved  you  through 
all.  Farewell !  Remember  your  promise.  Farewell !" 

The  head  sank  wearily  upon  the  pillow ;  and  after  pla- 
cing the  box  in  its  accustomed  place,  he  kissed  the  feverish 


THE  REVELATION.  319 

hand  of  his  old  nurse,  whom  he  had  in  childhood  dearly 
loved,  and  with  a  whispered  farewell  left  the  cottage  and 
hurried  to  call  Dora  to  the  bedside  of  her  dying  mother. 

There  was  a  marked  contrast  between  the  cot  he  had  just 
left  and  the  magnificent  abode  which  he  entered.  Wealth 
bad  been  lavish  in  its  decorations,  and  the  rich  carpets,  the 
toft  velvet  cushions  and  the  heavily-carved  furniture  spoke 
of  ease  and  elegance  and  filled  the  mind  with  a  vague  idea 
of  comfort  and  repose.  There  were  but  two  persons  in  the 
spacious  drawing-room  when  Arthur  Dupont  entered  it  after 
his  visit  to  Aunt  Katy's  cottage,  an  aged  gentleman  with  an 
open  book  before  him,  from  which  he  had  been  reading,  and 
near  him,  half  buried  in  the  cushion  of  her  easy-chair,  sat  a 
matronly  female  richly  attired  in  black,  her  frosted  locks 
carefully  concealed  beneath  a  cap  of  costly  lace,  which  was 
worn  a  little  coquettishly  upon  her  well-shaped  head  and 
served  to  shade  slightly  her  face,  as  it  rested  upon  her  hand, 
while  her  keen  eye  was  fastened  with  a  steady  gaze  upon 
the  carpet. 

She  raised  her  head  with  a  quick,  nervous  motion,  as  her 
son  entered,  and  fixed  upon  his  face  an  anxious  look.  Not 
at  all  satisfied  with  the  result  of  her  investigation,  she  said, 
quietly, 

"  I  suppose  Katy  sent  for  you  to  attest  her  will  ?" 

"  Her  confession,  rather,"  was  the  equally  calm  reply. 

The  aged  face  grew  pallid,  and  the  dark  eyes  flashed  for 
a  moment  only  with  the  fire  of  excitement.  But  none  knew 
better  than  the  calm,  designing  woman  the  power  of  a  sin- 
gle look,  and  none  possessed  a  more  accommodating  mask 
than  that  which  she  had  so  dextrously  worn  for  many 
years. 

The  face  of  her  son,  however,  puzzled  her.  There  was 
no  anger  there,  no  perceptible  sorrow.  A  look  of  quiet 
happiness  overspread  his  features. 

"  No,  she  is  true ;  my  secret  is  safe,  let  her  confessions  be 
what  they  may."  Such  was  the  deliberate  conclusion  at 


320  THE  REVELATION. 

which  she  arrived  after  watching  her  son,  as  he  walked  for 
a  few  moments  leisurely  up  and  down  the  apartment,  when, 
with  some  casual  remarks  to  his  father,  he  turned  to  leave 
the  room. 

These  were  not  the  only  inmates  of  that  splendid  mansion. 
There  had  once  been  a  daughter,  beautiful  and  stately  as  her 
mother  ever  had  been,  but  many  years  before  she  had  left 
the  paternal  roof  with  one  whom  the  world  called  noble 
and  true,  and  to  whom  her  young  heart  entrusted  its  purest 
love.  A  fiend,  however,  lay  concealed  beneath  his  attrac- 
tive exterior,  and  now  and  then  he  lifted  his  serpent  head 
and  with  open  mouth  demanded  yet  one  more  draught  of 
that  liquid  death  upon  which  his  vile  form  gloated  and 
grew  fat.  It  was  given.  Then  the  monster  coiled  his 
venomous  length  and  slumbered  on,  but  there  came  a  day 
when  he  opened  his  wild,  fiery  eyes  and  reposed  not  again 
to  sleep.  Slowly  he  wound  with  cold,  deathly  coils  about 
his  victim,  crushing  out  every  laudable  ambition  of  his 
human  nature,  rifling  a  noble,  manly  heart  of  every  high- 
born affection,  withering  with  his  hot,  viperous  breath  every 
moral  principle,  every  Godlike  power,  with  which  his  Creator 
had  kindly  endowed  him,  and  scattered  over  the  desolate 
waste  the  broken  fragments  of  worldly  hope,  until  at  last 
the  image  of  a  once  noble  man  sank  overpowered  down, 
down  to  degradation  and  a  drunkard's  grave,  despised, 
lost. 

'But  he  fell  not  alone.  Another  heart  was  bound  to  this 
sinking  wreck  by  ties  which  the  cankering  rust  of  broken 
vows  and  cold  neglect  could  not  sever;  and  when  the  hus- 
band fell,  she  sank  beside  him,  a  withering  vine  clinging  to 
the  prostrated  oak  which  the  cruel  axe  of  intemperance 
spared  not.  God  pity  the  hand  that  wielded  it,  for  every 
true  man  turns  with  loathing  from  its  presence,  blood- 
stained as  that  hand  ever  is. 

One  child,  a  little  fairy  girl,  survived  the  wreck.  Aa 
Arthur  Dupont  restlessly  passed  out  into  the  garden,  and 


THE  REVELATION.  321 

she  came  tripping  up  the  gravel  walk  with  the  sunshine  all 
around  her,  singing  gayly  a  childish  song  which  her  mother 
a  long  time  before  had  taught  her. 

"  Oh,  Uncle  Arthur,  how  you  frightened  me  I"  she  ex- 
claimed, tossing  back  her  curls,  as  she  espied  him  coming 
toward  her ;  and  running  up  to  him,  she  threw  her  arms 
affectionately  about  his  neck.  "Precious  uncle,  now  for 
that  ride,"  she  continued,  coaxingly. 

He  caught  her  in  his  arms,  looked  in  her  bright,  sunny 
face,  and  then,  as  if  musing,  he  said,  audibly,  "  She  is  more 
beautiful  than  you,  my  bird,"  and  kissed  her  fondly. 

"Thank  you,"  she  answered,  with  an  assumed  frown. 
"  But  just  tell  me,  will  you,  who  that  beautiful  creature  is 
that  you  have  twice  had  the  impudence  to  tell  me  is  prettier 
than  I  ?  She  must  be  a  visitor  in  your  dream-land,  or  per- 
haps, you  don't  know  that  it  is  the  opinion  of  one,  at  least, 
that  I  am  superior  in  appearance  to  all  fairies,  or  any  one 
of  that  holy  sisterhood  that  dwell  in  purity  upon  that  en- 
chanting isle  of  the  imagination.  Fie  on  you,  uncle,  to 
say  that  she  is  prettier  than  I,  and  never  once  tell  me  who 
the  fair  lady  is,  that  I  may  pull  her  hair  out  or  turn  her 
nose  askew !" 

"  I  want  no  such  damage  committed  on  my  imperious 
beauty,"  he  replied,  laughing.  "But  be  patient  and  you 
shall  see  her." 

"  And  so  you  are  really  to  be  married  ?  Oh,  Uncle  Ar- 
thur, how  I  envy  you!  White  satin  dresses,  veil,  gloves, 
ribbons,  everything  white!  And  I  am  such  an  admirer 
of  white." 

"Birdie,  birdie,"  he  said,  gently  pulling  her  curls,  "I 
am  not  to  wear  white  satin  dresses  and  that  whole  list 
of  furbelows  you  have  named.  Why,  then,  should  you 
envy  me?" 

"  Then  you  are  really  to  be  married  ?  Grandpapa  told 
me  a  few  days  ago  how  much  he  wished  these  old  walls 
would  echo  again  with  merry  laughter,  as  they  once  did. 


322  THE  REVELATION. 

But  she  will  never  love  you  as  much  as  I  do.  I  wish  you 
weie  not  my  uncle." 

"What  makes  you  think,  birdie,  that  she  will  never 
love  me  as  well  as  you  do  ?  I  hope  she  will,  a  great  deal 
better." 

u  Oh.  I  don't,  for  then  she  will  eat  you,  and  away  go 
I  he  blissful  dreams  that  now  haunt  her  pillow — I  hope  the 
quotation  is  correct — '  of  sweet  companionship  down  the 
rugged  hill  of  life.'  Another  quotation ;"  and  she  clapped 
her  hands  gleefully,  and  with  a  care-free  laugh  she  bounded 
away. 

"  Sweet  child !"  he  murmured,  as  he  continued  his  walk ; 
"the  same  as  I  remember  her  mother  at  her  age.  God  for- 
bid the  sombre  mantle  of  her  wedded  life  should  ever  fall 
upon  her  child !" 

Full  of  the  exciting  news  of  which  she  supposed  her- 
self in  possession,  Clara  Fontafeare  danced  lightly  into  the 
drawing-room,  not,  however,  without  stepping  upon  the  toes 
of  her  pet  spaniel,  who  uttered  a  faint  cry,  then  jumped 
about  her,  as  if  to  give  his  mistress  double  assurance  that 
he  was  not  at  all  hurt. 

"  That's  right,  Fido !  Let  us  sing  and  dance,  making  ready 
for  our  master's  wedding ;"  and  catching  the  sagacious  ani- 
mal by  his  extended  paws,  she  flew  with  him  about  the 
room  in  the  exuberance  of  her  glee. 

"What's  that  you  say,  Madcap?"  asked  the  old  gentle- 
man, laying  his  spectacles  aside  upon  the  table  and  looking 
fondly  at  the  spirited  tableau  before  him. 

Still  she  danced  on. 

"Speak,  butterfly.  Is  it  your  master  or  the  dog's  that 
you  were  just  speaking  about  ?" 

"Why,  Fido's,  to  be  sure,"  she  answered,  pushing  the 
animal  aside  with  an  impatient  gesture,  declaring  at  the 
same  time  that  she  would  as  soon  dance  with  a  gridiron. 
"Didn't  you  know  that  Uncle  Arthur  is  to  bring  here  a 
being  whom  he  has  more  than  once  declared  is  more  beauti- 


THE  REVELATION,  323 

ful  than  your  Madcap,  as  I  believe  you  first  called  me  ?" 
and  she  kissed  lovingly  the  happy  wrinkled  face  that 
beamed  fond  love  upon  her. 

"  Did  he  tell  you  so  ?"  asked  the  old  lady,  her  counte- 
nance suddenly  brightening  up  at  the  intelligence. 

"  Oh  yes ;  we  had  a  long  talk  about  it ;  I  am  very  glad, 
aren't  you?" 

''Yes,"  replied  the  grandmother,  "if  he  doesn't  the 
second  time  demean  himself  by  stooping  far  below  him- 
self in  station." 

"  Tut !  tut !"  said  her  husband,  indignantly.  "  I  am  get- 
ting heartily  tired  of  this  fol-de-rol  about  birth  and  posi- 
tion. Let  Arthur  select  a  wife,  and  I  shall  have  no  doubt 
as  to  her  worth ;  the  rest  may  go  to  the  dogs,  for  all  that 
I  care." 

Arthur  did  not  comprehend  the  erroneous  impression 
which  he  had  conveyed  until  after  Katy's  funeral,  when 
Dora  had  become  an  inmate  of  the  family  mansion.  As 
he  was  preparing  to  leave  one  day  for  an  indefinite  time, 
his  father  quietly  asked, 

"  My  son,  when  shall  my  dim  eyes  be  brightened  by  a 
look  into  the  face  of  your  beautiful  wife?  We  think  it 
hardly  fair  that  you  do  not  tell  us  about  her." 

The  truth  flashed  suddenly  upon  Arthur,  and  he  replied, 

"  Clara  has  unwittingly  deceived  you,  my  dear  father ; 
I  did  not  tell  her  I  was  to  marry,  though  I  did  speak  of 
one  more  beautiful  even  than  herself.  Be  patient,  father, 
and  you  too  shall  sec  her.  Do  not  look  so  much  dis- 
appointed," he  added,  as  he  looked  into  the  clouded  face 
of  his  much-loved  parent.  "I  may  marry  yet;  there  is 
time  enough  for  that  these  many  years.  At  any  rate,  I  will 
promise  to  make  you  glad  by  my  perfect  happiness  before 
you  leave  me  for  ever." 

Tho  old  man  was  comforted,  said  something  about  this 
being  his  greatest  desire,  and  they  parted. 


CHAPTER   XXXIX. 
THE  BROTHERS. 

great  national  holiday  broke  upon  the  beautiful 
-L  city  of  Troy  with  the  beating  of  drums,  the  ringing  of 
bells,  the  heavy  booming  of  cannon,  the  incessant  barkir.g 
of  dogs,  the  shouting  of  half-grown  men,  the  screeching  of 
children,  the  crackling  of  small  arms  and,  most  provoking 
of  all,  the  ceaseless  snapping  of  fire-crackers.  The  dust 
mingled  with  the  confusion,  and  the  scorching  rays  of  the 
midsummer  sun  compelled  all  who  had  not  in  their  com- 
position a  counteracting  element  of  patriotism  to  remain 
within-doors  or  seek  some  shady  retreat  away  from  the  din 
and  bustle  of  the  city. 

Yet  the  nation  loves  and  hallows  this  day.  Perhaps  it 
loved  and  hallowed  it  more  in  1837  than  in  the  year  of 
grace  in  which  we  write,  for  many  of  the  fathers  were  then 
still  in  existence  whose  labors  had  made  this  day  significant 
and  memorable,  and  the  rejoicing  went  on. 

At  an  early  hour  Mr.  Fenn  drove  around  to  the  residence 
of  Mr.  Lane,  where  Flora  and  Lura  were  ready  to  accompany 
him  in  a  drive. 

"You  are  not  to  drive  those  spirited  horses?"  asked 
Lura,  with  some  trepidation,  as  the  steeds  came  dash- 
ing up. 

"  Do  you  imagine  my  arm  too  weak  to  protect  you?  See 
how  obedient  they  are  to  my  every  wish ;"  and  touching 
them  gently  with  the  whip,  they  curbed  their  necks,  dis- 
tended their  nostrils  and  gave  manifest  tokens  of  the  rest- 
less spirit  within  them  of  which  their  owner  was  so 
proud. 

134 


THE  BROTHERS.  325 

"Beautiful  creatures!"  exclaimed  Flora,  as  she  came 
tripping  down ;  and  running  up  to  them,  she  patted  then 
sleek,  shining  coats  with  her  hand. 

"  You  had  better  take  care4  sir,"  said  Jim ;  "  I  know  by 
their  looks  they  don't  like  the  smell  of  powder." 

"  Neither  do  we,"  said  Mr.  Fenn ;  "  that  is  why  we  are 
going  out  of  it." 

Soon  they  were  dashing  away  at  a  rapid  speed  down  the 
street,  turning  off  here  and  there  to  avoid  the  processions 
that  were  marching  according  to  programme  through  nearly 
every  principal  street  in  the  city,  until  the  bright  green 
fields  began  to  cheer  their  vision  and  the  singing  of  birds 
and  the  fragrance  of  new-mown  hay  came  wafted  to  them 
on  the  soft  summer  breeze. 

"  Oh,  this  is  delightful !"  exclaimed  the  girls,  in  a  breath ; 
and  Flora  began  to  sing : 

"  Give  me  a  cot  in  the  valley  I  love, 
A  tent  in  the  greenwood,  a  home  in  the  grove—'' 

"  So  say  I,"  chimed  in  Lura. 

"I  care  not  how  humble,  for  happy  'twill  be, 
If  one  faithful  heart  will  but  share  it  with  me." 

"  My  home,  then,  would  suit  you  both,"  said  Mr.  Fenn. 
laughing ;  "  and  Lura  must  come  and  live  with  us ;  isn't  it 
so,  Flora?" 

'Ah  yes;  how  happy  we  should  all  be  in  that  little 
cot!" 

Both  laughed',  for  the  description  that  Mr.  Fenn  had 
given  of  the  home  to  which  he  would  bear  "  his  queen  " 
portrayed  a  palace  rather  than  the  cottage  in  which  love 
always  foolishly  sighs  to  dwell,  and  which  it  as  soon  cries  to 
leave. 

A  little  hand  was  held  captive  during  this  conversation, 
tor  the  quick  eye  of  Mr.  Fenn  had  espied  upon  one  of  its 

28 


326  THE  BROTHERS. 

fingers  a  diamond  ring,  the  seal  of  a  buried  love,  the  pledge 
of  renewed  vows  for  which  his  heart  had  long  been  pining. 
There  was  a  happy,  contented  smile  "upon  his  face  as  he 
looked  into  the  beaming  eyes  of  the  beautiful  girl  by  his 
side  and  saw  the  maidenly  blfcsh  deepen  upon  her  ch<~*  k, 
for  he  knew  that  she  too  was  happy — happy  because  h(r 
love  had  made  him  so. 

They  had  reached  a  pleasant  little  village  four  miles  from 
the  city ;  and  spying  a  grove  not  far  distant  rilled  with  a 
merry  group  chatting  and. sporting  in  the  grateful  shade,  a 
proposition  was  made  by  Lura  that  they  should  join  them. 
This  was  acceded  to,  but  first  they  must  drive  into  the  vil- 
lage, procure  some  refreshments  and  dispose  of  the  horses ; 
then  they  would  walk  across  the  charming  fields  to  the 
grove,  which  was  but  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away. 

All  the  patriotism,  however,  had  not  retired  from  the 
little  village  into  the  greenwood  shades,  for  before  they 
arrived  at  the  inn  one  of  a  mischievous  group  of  boys  upon 
the  corner  deliberately  threw  a  lighted  fire-cracker  at  the 
horses'  feet,  which  instantly  exploded,  and  the  affrighted 
animals  reared  and  sprung  madly  forward,  severing  at  the 
same  time  one  of  the  reins,  when  they  dashed  with  frenzied 
speed  down  the  nearly  deserted  street.  Mr.  Fenn  was  ren- 
dered powerless  to  check  them  by  the  accident  to  the  har- 
ness in  their  first  plunge,  and  they  therefore  dashed  on 
wholly  unrestrained. 

Lura  uttered  a  faint  scream,  then  covered  her  face  with 
her  hands  and  remained  motionless  and  silent.  Flora,  with 
strained  eyes  and  parted  lips,  pale  and  livid,  watched  th. 
frightened  horses,  who  like  Mazeppa's  steed  threw  ii  MI 
their  extended  jaws  a  white  foam  upon  either  side,  while  a 
vapor  of  steam  arose  from  their  reeking  flanks,  as  with 
lightning-like  rapidity  they  passed  through  the  village  and 
came  again  by  the  side  of  the  smooth  green  fields  where  t  he 
clover  blossoms  filled  the  air  with  sweets  and  the  birds 
piped  their  tuneful  songs.  Suddenly  a  carriage  appeared 


THE  BROTHERS.  327 

in  the  distance,  and  Flora  caught  the  arm  of  her  com- 
panion and  uttered  a  cry  of  alarm. 

"  Do  not  fear,"  he  said,  calmly.  "As  soon  as  opportunity 
offers  I  shall  rein  them  up  to  the  side  of  the  road,  and  by 
springing  upon  the  back  of  one  of  them  hope  to  secure  our 
safety." 

Nearer  and  nearer  came  the  carriage,  and  on,  madly  on, 
dashed  the  terrified  horses.  A  steep  descent  was  just  before 
them,  and  at  its  foot  a  broad,  rapid  stream  crossed  the  road, 
spanned  by  a  covered  bridge.  As  they  looked  at  the  pros- 
pect before  them,  new  strength  was  imparted  to  the  manly 
arm,  and  with  determined  will  Mr.  Fenn  abruptly  and 
stoutly  pulled  the  remaining  rein,  by  which  he  held  the 
fiying  steeds,  and  turned  them  aside  from  the  direct  course 
toward  a  high  board  fence  that  was  stretched  along  upon 
either  side,  when,  the  wheel  suddenly  striking  a  decayed 
stump  in  the  way,  the  carriage  reeled,  and  Lura,  springing 
from  her  recumbent  position  at  sight  of  the  newly  impend- 
ing danger,  threw  her  whole  weight  upon  the  lower  side  of 
the  carriage,  and  the  three  were  at  once  thrown  violently 
upon  the  ground. 

The  carriage  which  had  been  seen  approaching  now 
reached  the  brow  of  the  hill,  and  a  gentleman  sprang  hur- 
riedly from  it  to  the  ground.  Mr.  Fenn  had  arisen  and 
raised  the  insensible  Flora,  who  was  lying  motionless  upon 
his  breast.  The  stranger  darted  forward  as  if  to  rescue  her 
from  the  arms  that  encircled  her,  but  with  a  sudden  gesture 
he  was  restrained  and  bid  to  raise  her 'companion. 

"  I  fear  she  is  badly  hurt,"  said  Mr.  Fenn.  "  Oh,  how 
pallid  and  deathly  pale  she  looks!  Can  we  not  send  for 
help  ?  The  village  is  not  far  distant." 

"  Hasten !  bring  a  physician  as  speedily  as  possible !"  was 
the  stranger's  imperative  command  to  the  driver ;  and  with 
a  loud  snapping  of  the  whip  the  carriage  rolled  away. 

"She  is  not  injured,"  he  rather  asserted  than  asked,  but 
ills  face  was  bloodless  and  his  white  lips  were  tightly  com- 


328  THE  BROTHERS. 

pressed,  as  he  took  Flora's  hand  and  laid  his  finger  upon 
her  feebly  throbbing  pulse.  "Your  strength  is  equal  to 
mine,"  he  added,  after  a  slight  pause.  "  Bear  your  burden 
down  to  the  stream  yonder,  and  I  will  follow  with  mine." 

Mr.  Fenn  did  not  notice  the  agitation  of  his  companion, 
but  arose  instantly  to  obey  his  orders. 

A  crowd  of  boys  and  men  had  followed  the  runaway  car- 
riage, and  in  a  few  moments  some  of  the  most  untiring 
reached  the  spot,  and  succeeded,  after  a  struggle,  in  captur- 
ing the  released  horses,  which  had  passed  the  bridge,  but 
on  making  the  opposite  ascent  had  been  driven  by  a  farm- 
er's boy  into  an  open  lot,  where  they  stood,  panting  and 
wellnigh  exhausted,  beneath  the  shade  of  a  large  chestnut 
tree. 

Flora  soon  recovered.    She  had  only  fainted. 

•'Perhaps  my  shoulder  is  a  little  bruised,"  she  said,  a 
moment  after,  as  she  feebly  endeavored  to  render  some 
assistance  to  the  still  insensible  Lura,  "  but  it  will  soon  be 
better." 

A  physician  reached  the  spot  in  the  mean  time,  and  after 
a  short  examination  a  slight  fracture  was  discovere-d  on  the 
back  of  Lura's  head. 

"You  must  hurry  with  her  to  some  house,"  he  said; 
"  nothing  can  be  done  here." 

After  a  short  consultation,  it  was  decided  that  the  stranger 
ihould  take  charge  of  Flora  and  the  insensible  Lura,  and 
accompanied  by  the  physician  should  drive  as  rapidly  as 
possible  back  to  the  city. 

"Poor  dear  Lura!"  said  Flora,  kissing  again  and  again 
her  cold  pale  face.  "  Why  can  you  not  restore  her  now  ?" 
she  asked  the  physician,  who  was  chafing  the  cold  hands 
of  his  patient  and  looking  anxiously  into  her  face. 

"  She  will  not  recover  until  we  bleed  her,"  was  the  reply, 
and  they  started  on. 

The  village  was  soon  passed,  then  the  grove.  In  fifteen 
minutes  the  stranger  said, 


THE  BROTHERS.  329 

"  We  will  be  safely  landed  at  Mrs.  Lane's  door." 

Flora  had  not  noticed  the  speaker  before,  but  now  she 
raised  her  eyes  to  his,  then  dropped  them  as  suddenly, 
while  a  deep  blush  dyed  her  cheeks  and  temples. 

She  had  seen  him  before,  and  there  was  something  in 
the  look  which  he  always  cast  upon  her  that  made  hei 
heart  throb  wildly  and  a  transient  happiness  take  posses- 
sion of  her. 

Giving  a  sudden  start,  she  exclaimed, 

"  My  ring !    Oh,  I  have  lost  my  diamond  ring !" 

The  stranger  opened  his  hand  and  presented  it  to  her. 

"The  sparkling  attracted  my  attention  on  the  ground 
where  you  had  fallen,  and  I  retained  it  that  I  might  learn, 
if  possible,  how  much  you  prized  it."  He  smiled  as  he 
continued :  "  Was  it  because  of  the  giver  or  its  great  value 
that  such  a  sudden  look  of  despair  seized  your  countenance 
when  you  thought  it  lost  ?" 

Flora  looked  at  him  in  surprise,  not  anger,  but  her  eye- 
lids drooped,  and  she  remained  silent.  In  a  few  moments 
they  reached  their  destination;  and  bounding  from  the 
carriage,  she  bade  him  follow  her,  as  she  hurried  into  the 
house. 

In  a  short  time  Lura  was  moaning  feebly  upon  her  bed. 
The  current  of  life  indeed  still  flowed,  but  delirium  was 
upon  her  brain.  Old  Aunt  Fanny  was  by  the  bedside  with 
her  bottle  of  camphor,  while  Mrs.  Skinner,  the  housekeeper 
looked  moodily  and  sullenly  on. 

Poor  Flora !  Here  was  another  trial ;  and  with  an  aching 
heart,  she  stole  away  to  Mrs.  Lane's  room  to  tell  her  of  the 
terrible  accident  and  its  almost  fatal  consequences, 

"  I  am  very  glad  you  brought  her  here,"  was  the  imme- 
diate reply,  as  she  finished  her  story,  "for  I  never  could 
spare  you  to  go  elsewhere  to  nurse  her,  as  I  know  you 
would.  Go  and  send  Jim  for  old  Nurse  Waters  to  attend 
her.  Lura  is  a  good  girl,  and  she  shall  have  every  care. 
How  kind  in  you,  my  dear  Flora,  to  give  me  an  opportunity 

28* 


330  THE  BROTHERS. 

of  repaying  you  in  some  slight  degree  for  all  the  good  you 
have  done  for  me !" 

Flora  tenderly  kissed  the  chee*k  of  her  friend,  while  a 
tear  dropped  upon  her  face.  She  ran  down  to  the  parlor 
for  a  moment,  and  was  astonished  to  find  the  gentleman 
that  had  accompanied  them  still  there. 

"I  waited  to  hear  from  your  friend,"  he  said,  as  she 
approached.  "  Has  she  recovered  ?" 

"Only  partially.  I  fear  she  is  seriously  injured;"  and 
again  tears  trembled  upon  her  eyelashes,  and  she  turned 
away  to  conceal  them. 

"  May  I  come  every  day  to  inquire  about  her  ?"  he  asked, 
rising  and  moving  toward  her. 

"  Certainly,  if  you  wish." 

And  with  a  bow  he  left  the  room. 

Soon  afterward  Mr.  Fenn  arrived,  and -was  much  grieved 
to  hear  of  Lura's  condition. 

"You  must  let  me  help  you  to  nurse  her,"  he  said,  as 
Flora  was  about  to  retire  to  the  sick-chamber.  "  Can  I  go 
with  you  ?  Mrs.  Waters,  I  am  sure,  will  be  very  thankful 
for  my  assistance  and  skill." 

"  Not  just  now,"  she  answered.  "  But  when  she  is  less 
excited,  as  I  hope  she  speedily  will  be,  you  shall  have  your 
task  assigned  you." 

All  that  night  Flora  watched  by  the  side  of  Lura,  who 
moaned  and  talked  incoherently,  as  the  hours  wore  slowly 
away.  The  professional,  Mrs.  Waters,  thinking  it  needless 
for  more  than  one  to  lose  sleep,  had  at  an  early  hour 
stowed  her  portly  person  upon  a  lounge,  and  was  quietly 
slumbering. 

In  this  interval  quite  different  scenes  were  transpiring  at 
the  city  hall,  different  paths  were  being  mapped  out  upon 
the  future  of  more  than  one  of  the  characters  here  grouped 
together  which  were  to  change  the  whole  current  of  their 
hopes  and  joys. 

Mr.  Fenn  had  retired  to  his  room  at  an  early  hour,  think- 


THE  BROTHERS.  331 

ing  sadly  over  the  adventure  of  the  last  fev?  hours.  Shortly 
after,  a  knock  was  heard  upon  the  door,  and  on  opening  it, 
he  encountered  the  stranger  whom  he  had  met  for  the  first 
time  that  day.  A  cordial  welcome  was  extended,  for  there 
was  something  in  his  manners  which  had  pleased  Mr.  Fenn 
when  he  first  beheld  him.  A  short  conversation  ensued, 
when  the  stranger  suddenly  became  thoughtful  and  silent. 

At  last,  he  said,  abruptly, 

"  Your  name  is  Lewis  Fenn  ?" 

"  It  is." 

"From  Boston?" 

"  Near  there,  sir.  But  pardon  me ;  I  have  never  taken  the 
trouble  of  informing  any  one  here  of  my  private  affairs." 

"  Do  not  tell  me,"  said  the  other,  smiling, "  that  you  wish 
to  have  me  mind  my  own  business,  as  -I  may,  perhaps, 
shortly  interest  you."  Then,  as  if  no  interruption  had 
occurred,  he  continued :  "  You  had  a  sister,  Clarissa  Fenn, 
whom  you  used  to  annoy  with  the  pet  name  of  '  Queenly 
sis'?" 

"  If  you  do  not  interest  me,  you  have  succeeded  pretty 
effectually  in  surprising  me,"  said  Mr.  Fenn,  rising  to  his 
feet.  "  Will  you  tell  me  who  you  are  and  how  you  knew 
my  sister?" 

"  I  will,  sir ;  that  is  my  business  with  you  to-night.  I  am 
not  surprised  that  you  do  not  know  me,  for  you  never  saw 
me  but  once,  and  that  was  upon  the  evening  of  your  sister's 
marriage  in  her  humble  home  at  Ogdensburg,  your  home 
at  the  time  being  with  a  rich  bachelor  uncle,  who  has  given 
you  his  property,  which  I  have  heard  was  immense." 

"Arthur  Dupont!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Fenn,  grasping  the 
hand  of  the  other.  "  Yes,  it  must  be  so !  Poor,  poor  Cla- 
rissa!" and  seating  himself,  he  bowed  his  face  upon  his 
hands. 

"  Yes,  Lewis,  I  was  her  happy  husband,  but  my  love  could 
not  save  her  from  an  early  death.  I  wrote  your  parents  a  full 
account  of  that  trying  scene  and  her  last  words  to  them  and  to 


332  THE  BROTHERS. 

ine.  But  I  love  ever  to  repeat  them : '  Dupont,  you  will  cherish 
my  memory,  and  love  the  little  flower  whose  young  life  has 
taken  my  own.  Through  her  let  your  generous  affection 
etill  extend  to  those  my  childhood  loved.  My  babe  shall 
be  a  connecting  link  between  you  and  heaven,  and  a  bond 
to  bind  me  still  to  earth.'  I  thought  the  earthly  tie  a 
feeble  one,  as  I  looked  into  those  holy  eyes  that  were  fixed 
on  my  face  with  their  last  fond  look,  but  these  seventeen 
years  have  I  lived  without  her,  wandering  up  and  down 
the  world,  restless  and  aimless.  Before  I  returned  from 
Europe,  whither  I  had  gone  to  bury  my  new-born  grief, 
I  heard  that  my  beautiful  babe  had  followed  her  mother. 
Then  my  selfish  love  folded  its  wings  over  my  blighted 
heart  and  quietly  slumbered,  while  I  wandered  on." 

A  long  time  the  two  remained  silent,  busy  with  their  own 
retrospective  glances  over  those  long  years  which  with  both 
of  them  had  been  filled  with  much  to  make  the  present 
moment  a  painful  one. 

"  I  knew  you  as  soon  as  I  saw  you  to-day,"  Dupont  at 
last  quietly  remarked.  "  A  few  months  ago  I  was  in  the 
city,  and  heard  the  report  that  a  Mr.  Fenn  was  very  atten- 
tive to  the  beautiful  Miss  Hawes;  and  when  I  saw  how 
tenderly  you  clasped  her  insensible  form  to  your  breast,  I 
knew  that  the  report  had  been  no  idle  talk." 

Mr.  Fenn  raised  his  eyes  suddenly  to  the  face  of  his  com- 
panion, and  a  look  of  anger  for  a  moment  passed  over  his 
features.  It  was  not  unnoticed  by  the  other,  who  quietly 
continued : 

"  I  am  no  curious  idler,  carelessly  treading  upon  sacred 
ground  merely  to  gratify  a  morbid  inquisitiveness.  But 
for  your  good  and  that  of  the  lady  whom  I  have  no  doubt 
you  love  I  must  continue  probing.  Then,  if  possible,  I  will 
aid  in  healing  the  wound  my  hand  would  gladly  be  spared 
from  opening." 

"  What,  in  the  name  of  all  that's  human,  do  you  mean 
by  such  mysterious  words  ?  If  you  desire  to  speak  of  her 


THE  BROTHERS.  333 

lineage,  you  may  spare  yourself  that  trouble.  I  know  it  all. 
Did  I  not  love  your  beautiful  sister  as  truly,  as  sacredly,  as 
you  loved  mine?  During  the  two  weeks  she  spent  at  our 
humble  home,  before  you  came  to  bear  away  your  bride, 
did  she  not  promise  to  become  mine — yes,  mine  ?  and  my 
heart  in  its  first  ardent  love  was  wild  with  the  joy  her 
promise  created.  But  she  returned  to  her  home,  and  in- 
fluences were  thrown  about  her  that  drew  her  from  me. 
At  last  a  letter  came — not  from  her,  but  from  her  mother. 
Oh,  those  cruel  words !  They  unman  me  even  now.  Her 
brother — such  was  the  strain — had  exerted  his  influence  in 
favor  of  another,  and  all  unwittingly  she  had  been  swayed 
in  the  same  direction,  and  his  choice  was  then  her.  own. 
She  could  not  write  to  tell  me  this,  but  chose  to  wound 
me  by  the  hand  of  another.  Yet  I  still  loved  you  for  my 
sister's  sake,  and  did  not  spurn  you  from  my  presence  as 
you  revealed  yourself,  although  you  blotted  out  the  light 
from  my  future  and  drew  about  me  the  thick  curtain  of 
disappointed  love.  Would  you  repeat  the  cruel  act  ?  Then 
my  sister  never  knew  you ;  and  God,  whose  professions  of 
justice  and  kindness  I  have  ever  doubted  since  that  evil 
hour,  removed  her  that  she  might  be  spared  the  pangs  of 
such  a  revelation." 

Dupont's  eyes  had  been  fastened  with  a  wild,  steady  look 
upon  his  companion's  face,  while  he  had  been  unable  to 
make  any  reply  to  the  accusations  heaped  upon  him.  But 
as  the  voice  of  the  other  ceased,  and  the  speaker  became 
calm  in  his  silent  grief,  he  exclaimed,  in  astonishment, 

"  You,  Lewis  Fenn,  loved  my  sister  ?  Yet,  true  as  there 
is  a  God  in  heaven,  I  knew  it  not.  I  saw  the  roses  fading 
upon  her  cheek  and  joy  dying  out  from  her  wonted  merry 
laugh,  and  they  told  me  her  heart  was  pining  for  a  faithless 
lover.  No,  no,  my  brother.  On  my  soul  rests  not  the  guilt 
of  my  sisters  forfeited  happiness  and  life.  Yes,  her  life,  for 
she  died  a  miserable,  heartbroken  wife  and  mother.  Oh, 
how  gladly  I  would  have  given  her  to  you!  But  she 


334  THE  BROTHERS. 

thought  you  false.  Her  heart  was  true  to  the  vows  it  had 
plighted  even  to  the  last.  I  see  it  all  now.  Oh,  my  mother, 
my  mother!  Would  to  God  I  had  died  before  knowing 
that  you  had  sacrificed  body  and  soul  to  the  vain,  foolish 
ambition  of  maintaining  a  family  aristocracy  !" 

There  were  tears  in  those  dark  eyes,  usually  so  quiet,  as 
he  walked  with  rapid  steps  up  and  down  the  room,  for  a 
heavier  grief  than  he  had  known  for  years  lay  upon  his 
heart.  He  stopped  at  last,  and  stood  before  his  com- 
panion. 

"  I  will  leave  you  now,"  he  said,  "  if  you  will  promise  to 
see  me  again  to-morrow.  I  have  much  to  say  to  you — much 
that  you  must  hear — but  I  cannot  say  it  to-night.  Here, 
however,  is  a  package  which  I  wish  you  to  peruse.  The 
knowledge  which  you  now  possess  will  be  the  only  inter- 
preter required;"  and  he  placed  in  his  hand  the  soiled 
papers  which  had  been  taken  a  few  weeks  before  by  the 
dying  Katy's  own  hands  from  the  little  box. 

"  Good-night !"  and  the  two  brothers  clasped  hands  fondly, 
while  above  them — who  shall  deny  it? — two  angelic  forms 
were  hovering,  and  in  whispers  sweet  they  echoed  the  fond 
words  "Good-night!" 


CHAPTER  XL. 
LOST,  A    WIFE. 

LEWIS  FENN  sat  for  a  long  time  musing  over  the  dreams 
of  his  early  love  that  came  dancing  up  before  him,  as 
we  have  seen  the  rays  of  the  setting  sun  dart  athwart  the 
heavy  clouds,  as  they  drew  their  thick  folds  across  the 
place  of  his  departure.  The  clock  upon  the  church-tower 
not  far  distant  told  the  hour  of  twelve.  Suddenly  starting, 
he  beheld  the  time-stained  package  upon  the  table,  and 
with  a  trembling  hand  he  opened  it  and  began  to  read. 

"  Strange,"  he  thought,  as  his  eyes  fell  upon  the  words 
"  My  dear  Arthur,"  "  that  I  should  have  any  hesitancy  in 
reading  this  confession,  or  whatever  it  may  be,  particularly 
as  it  interests  another,  and  not  myself." 

But  he  read  on : 

"  In  all  probability  before  you  rSad  this  I  shall  be  in  the 
grave,  away  from  the  power  of  temptation  or  threats,  and 
beyond  the  reach  of  your  displeasure.  Yet  the  thought  of 
death,  in  connection  with  my  great  sin  toward  you,  is  too 
dreadful  for  one  so  weak  as  myself  to  endure ;  and  with  an. 
aching  heart  and  a  consuming  fever  devouring  me  do  I  now 
write  this  my  confession,  begging  only  that,  for  the  sake  of 
the  love  you  bore  me  when  your  head  rested  fondly  upon 
my  bosom  and  your  lisping  tongue  demanded  each  good- 
night kiss,  you  will  forgive  your  faithless  nurse,  whose  heart 
never  erred  toward  you,  but  whose  better  judgment  and 
whose  overpowered  will  yielded  in  weakness  to  the  tempter's 
wiles. 

"I  hesitate  in  what  I  am  to  say,  for  in  my  revelation 
another  is  to  be  implicated  for  whom  your  noble  heart 

IM 


336  LOST,  A    WIFE. 

will  plead,  and  in  so  doing  will  perhaps  impose  upon  my 
memory  a  double  condemnation.  But  I  shall  not  know  it, 
and  my  unburdened  soul  may  find  the  rest  for  which  it  so 
ardently  pines. 

"I  was  born  of  humble  parents  near  th»>  residence  of 
your  mother's  father,  and  at  an  early  age  vias  often  em- 
ployed in  the  family  as  a  nurse  or  companion  for  the 
youngei  children,  or  in  the  performance  of  any  other  light 
work  that  might  be  assigned  me.  Mabel  vras  about  my 
age,  and  an  affection  sprang  up  between  us  which  on  my 
part  was  never  forgotten.  We  became  almost  companions 
in  her  home,  since  I  shortly  afterward  was  engaged  as 
seamstress  in  the  establishment.  Finally  tb«  family  went 
abroad,  and  I  went  to  my  father's  home  to  ^emain  during 
their  absence,  it  having  been  agreed  that  I  should  resume 
my  place  among  them  on  their  return. 

"For  two  years  the  family  mansion  was  closed,  and 
during  that  time  a  tempter  came  to  my  lonely  home  with 
words  of  flattery  and  holy  protestations  of  love,  which  in 
the  simplicity  of  my  heart  I  gathered  up  as  honeyed  dew- 
drops  to  roll  them  as  sweet  morsels  under  my  tongue  when 
he  was  away.  He  won  my  soul  at  last,  and  stamped  me 
with  undying  shame. 

"  Mabel  Graham  returned  from  her  tour  of  pleasure  the 
betrothed  of  Augustine  Dupont,  and  found  me  the  mother 
of  a  child  of  shame ;  yet  I  clasped  it  to  my  bosom,  and 
called  it  over  and  over  again  the  pet  names  its  faithless 
father  had  bestowed  upon  me  when  I  lived  upon  his  burn- 
ing words  of  endearment,  until  I  saw  it  fade  and  die  where 
I  had  placed  it.  and  the  hot  tears  which  my  streaming  eyes 
rained  upon  its  cold  face  roused  it  not.  Then  they  bore  it 
from  me,  and  I  saw  it  no  more. 

"  Pity  came  creeping  into  the  heart  of  the  proud  Mabel 
when  she  saw  how  pale  and  weary  of  life  I  had  become ; 
and  when  she  left  her  home  to  accompany  her  husband  to 
his  distant  abode,  I  went  with  her.  In  less  than  two  years 


LOST,  A    WIFE.  33 

a  beautiful  son  came  to  bless  their  wedded  life ;  and  when 
I  felt  its  little  head  nestling  upon  my  bosom,  I  called  it 
my  own,  the  spirit  of  my  lost  one,  which  God  had  sent 
back  to  me. 

"  Then  my  new  life  commenced.  I  was  jealous  when  he 
rut  out  his  little  hands  to  go  to  another  who  daily  ad- 
vanced a  superior  claim  to  my  own,  and  the  name  -of 
1  mother,'  the  first  word  his  infant  lips  were  taught  to  lisp, 
was  given  to  me.  This  was  my  triumph,  and  well  did  it 
nurture  the  spirit  of  evil  which  had  taken  possession  of  me. 
By  and  by  a  little  daughter  came  to  divide  the  mother's 
love,  and  the  cherished  pet  was  permitted  to  become  more 
exclusively  my  own ;  for  in  my  heart  there  lurked  no  affec- 
tion for  the  little  stranger,  for  my  own  child  had  been  a  son. 
Years  rolled  rapidly  by. 

"In  a  measure,  I  forgot  my  former  love;  and  when  Frank 
Wilmot,  the  handsome  gardener,  offered  me  his  heart  and 
hand,  I  accepted  them. "  I  was  a  few  years  his  senior,  yet  I 
believe  he  loved  me  with  all  the  ardor  of  his  pure  affection, 
and  the  passionate  love  which  I  had  borne  you  was  greatly 
diminished  when  I  clasped  in  my  maternal  embrace  my 
own  child,  my  Dora.  Soon  after,  you  left  me ;  and  when 
you  returned,  everybody,  including  myself,  was  astonished 
at  your  approaching  marriage.  It  was  a  severe  blow  to  the 
proud  and  high-born  mother,  but  as  you  remained  immov- 
able to  all  her  entreaties,  she  at  last,  with  not  a  very  good 
grace,  be  it  confessed,  gave  her  consent.  Yet  wheL  the 
beautiful,  peerless  bride  came,  all  loved  her.  Who  could 
help  it?  And  the  tears  that  fell  upon  her  marble  face,  as 
it  lay,  so  lovely  still,  in  the  open  coffin,  were  tears  of  sor- 
row wrung  from  bereaved  hearts. 

"A  little  babe  was  sleeping  in  a  cradle  in  my  cottage, 
and  Dora  was  playing  with  its  silken  curls  as  you  came  to 
bid  me  farewell,  departing  you  knew  not  whither,  as  your 
quivering  lips  asserted.  You  left  in  my  care  the  little 
nursling  so  tenderly  loved  for  its  mother's  sake ;  and  when 

20 


838  LOST,  A    WIFE. 

I  saw  the  teardrops  glisten  on  the  little  velvet  cheek  after 
you  had  risen  from  a  last  embrace,  1  vowed  to  be  true  to 
the  trust  confided  to  me.  You  left  me,  and  now  came 
tidings  from  over  the  broad  ocean  that  you  were  still  in  pur- 
suit of  some  quiet  place  in  which  to  bury  your  grief  that 
you  might  return  comforted. 

"One  beautiful  spring  evening,  as  I  was  sitting  in  the 
door  of  my  cottage,  looking  out  upon  the  budding  trees 
and  the  green  grass,  upon  which  the  moon  was  shining 
with  such  a  holy,  peaceful  light  that  I  could  almost  look 
upward  and  say,  '  My  Father,'  I  heard  a  footstep  near,  and 
looking  around,  saw  your  mother  approaching  me.  There 
was  a  strange  look  upon  her  face,  as  she  inquired  if  Frank 
was  gone  into  the  city,  and  then  if  Dora  were  sleeping; 
"  for,"  said  she,  "  I  want  to  talk  quietly  with  you  a  while 
with  no  ear  but  ours  to  listen.'  One  look  out  into  the  pale, 
eilvery  light  which  spread  over  all  around  as  far  as  the  eye 
could  reach  brought  the  words  to  my  lips,  *  Yet  God  will 
hear,'  but  I  did  not  utter  them. 

"'You  know,"  she  commenced,  'that  I  have  in  my  pos- 
session a  great  secret,  and  that  if  I  should  once  divulge  it 
it  would  crush  your  happiness  for  ever.'  This  was  indeed 
true.  Frank  Wilmot  knew  not  of  my  shame,  and  great 
was  his  indignation  toward  those  who  fell  from  the  high 
position  in  virtue  and  morality  which  nature  assigns  to  all. 
*  Of  course,  then,'  she  continued, '  if  I  entrust  you  with  one, 
it  will  be  as  sacredly  kept  as  yours  has  been  by  me  ?'  I 
assented.  'Arthur's  child,'  she  whispered  close  in  my  ear, 
'  must  not  remain  here  to  eat  the  fruit  that  rightfully  be- 
longs to  another.'  I  shuddered.  '  Neither  do  I  wish  any 
connecting  link  to  exist  that  binds  us  to  the  past,  or  to  the 
family  with  whom  my  son  so  foolishly  united  himself.  I 
have  a  plan.  If  you  but  aid  me  in  carrying  it  out,  and 
for  ever  after  bury  it  in  your  bosom  among  the  inci- 
dents of  your  life  to  be  forgotten,  I  will  not  only  continue 
true  to  my  secret,  but  will  bestow  upon  your  daughter  a 


LOST,  A   WIFE.  331 

dowry  sufficient  to  place  her  above  all  care,  and  make  her 
future  a  bright  and  happy  one.  Will  you  give  me  your 
assistance  ?'  I  hesitated.  '  No  violence  shall  be  done  the 
child.  I  will  procure  it  a  home  where  there  can  be  no  pos- 
sibility of  her  ever  returning.  Will  you  help  me  ?'  And 
then,  with  the  calm,  holy  moon  looking  down  upon  me,  I 
consented — yes,  I  promised  to  betray  my  trust,  to  make 
•more  desolate  the  heart  I  would  so  gladly  have  healed  of 
the  wounds  already  existing  there. 

"SDine  traders  were  going  to  a  distant  island  to  barter 
with  the  Indians  for  their  winter's  store  of  furs.  I  was  to 
go  to  a  city  upon  the  lake  through  which  they  were  to  pass; 
and  taking  with  me  the  child  and  a  sufficient  sum  of  money 
to  overcome  all  the  conscientious  scruples  which  they  might 
be  expected  to  have,  and  with  the  assurance  that  the  babe 
was  my  own  and  a  child  of  shame,  I  was  to  prevail  upon 
them  to  take  it  as  a  present  to  some  matronly  squaw  who 
would  rear  it  as  her  own.  The  truth  thus  could  never  be 
brought  to  light;  for  should  her  future  appearance  indicate 
a  different  lineage,  all  suspicions  could  be  readily  silenced 
by  the  well-known  fact  that  many  of  the  itinerant  traders 
had  children  among  that  despised  people.  Meantime,  the 
parties  particularly  interested  should  learn  that  the  failing 
health  of  the  child  demanded  a  change  of  air,  and  that  it 
had  been  sent  a  few  miles  into  the  country,  where  a  better 
diet  could  be  obtained  for  her,  and  then  that  the  child  in 
a  short  time  sickened  and  died. 

"All  went  swimmingly  on;  and  during  the  attendant  ex- 
citement my  compassion  and  love  for  the  beautiful  babe 
were  swallowed  up  in  the  fear  of  detection.  Indeed,  it  was 
not  until  a  little  coffin  was  brought  back,  with  strict  orders 
that  it  must  not  be  opened,  on  account  of  the  extreme  heat 
of  the  season,  and  I  saw  it  lowered  into  the  grave  by  the 
side  of  the  gentle  Clarissa,  and  tearless  eyes  assumed  a  grief 
which  was  a  mockery  to  the  silent  dead  near  whom  our 
nacrilegious  feet  were  standing,  that  my  heart,  with  all  ita 


340  LOST,  A    WIFE. 

love  for  you  and  the  child,  returned  to  me,  and  I  wept  team 
more  bitter,  more  thoroughly  penitent,  than  had  ever  before 
dampened  my  cheeks. 

"  In  violation  of  the  strict  commands  of  my  tempter,  I 
arranged  with  the  trader  to  bring  me  word  of  the  child,  and 
from  him  I  heard  each  season  that  Wohema,  its  foster- 
mother,  cherished  the  little  fondling  with  a  mother's  care; 
and  that  it  grew  in  beauty  daily.  Thus,  my  Arthur,  I  have 
told  you  all;  and  although  you  must  condemn  me  as  a  great 
transgressor,  yet  a  pleading  voice  in  your  heart  will  whis- 
per, '  She  was  greatly  tempted.'  " 

The  perusal  was  finished,  and  Lewis  Fenn  threw  the 
manuscript  upon  the  table  and  with  a  hurried  step  left  the 
house.  The  stars  were  looking  down  from  the  azure  depths 
upon  him,  but  he  heeded  them  not.  Their  feeble  light 
could  not  penetrate  the  darkness  that  enshrouded  him,  and 
he  sought  not  for  their  cheering  smiles.  The  clock  from 
the  church-tower  told  the  hour  of  two,  yet  he  hurried  on. 
Dark  clouds  were  suddenly  rising  from  behind  the  eastern 
hills,  and  one  by  one  the  stars  went  out,  as  they  mustered 
in  haste.  Then  the  low,  deep  thunder  muttered  in  the  dis- 
tance, and  the  vivid  lightning  darted  athwart  the  gloomy 
Bky,  yet  he  heeded  them  not,  as  with  clenched  hands  and 
eyes  fixed  steadily  upon  the  ground  he  walked  gloomily  and 
silently  on,  until  the  rain  poured  in  torrents  upon  his  head 
and  the  clock  proclaimed  night  departed,  and  the  morn  was 
rapidly  approaching,  heralded  by  the  loud  cannonading  of 
Nature's  artillery.  Then,  at  last,  he  turned  homeward. 

"Oh,  Clarissa,  Clarissa,"  he  exclaimed,  as  he  threw  hia 
weary  body  upon  the  bed,  "  this,  then,  is  your  child !  Oh, 
what  incalculable  wrongs  have  been  done  her,  and  how 
mercifully  she  has  escaped  from  another,  more  revolting 
than  all  the  rest !  Will  she  not  bless  me  from  her  spirit- 
home  for  administering  to  her  child's  happiness  ?  Strange 
that  I  should  have  clung  to  her,  despite  all  the  ignominy 
attached  to  her  lineage !  Oh,  my  sister,  thy  influence  has 


LOST,  A   WIFE.  341 

teen  thrown  around  me,  and  I  knew  it  not  Carefully  hast 
thou  watched  over  the  life  thou  didst  leave  on  earth,  and 
most  effectually  has  thy  angelic  nature  protected  me.  I 
will  no  more  be  the  skeptic  that  circumstances  for  years 
have  succeeded  in  making  me  believe  myself  to  be.  Flora 
was  right.  There  are  connecting  links  between  earth  and 
heaven,  so  ordained  by  a  Father's  love." 

He  fell  asleep,  and  did  not  awake  until  aroused  by  a 
gentle  knock  upon  the  door.  Arthur  Dupont  had  come  to 
ascertain  what  had  become  of  him.  The  storm  had  passed 
away,  and  the  sun  was  high  in  the  heavens. 

"  You  sleep  late  this  morning,"  said  his  visitor.  "  I  came 
to  inquire  if  you  were  sick." 

"Yes,  I  am  sick,  I  believe,  or  delirious — or  something. 
But  you  will  tell  me  when  it  was  that  you  ascertained  that 
Flora  Hawes  was  your  daughter?" 

"Certainly.  About  two  years  ago  the  writer  of  that 
manuscript  was  taken  suddenly  ill,  and,  as  she  supposed, 
was  about  to  die.  Sending  for  me,  she  bound  me  by  the 
most  solemn  oaths  not  to  reveal  one  word  of  what  she  waa 
about  to  tell  me  until  after  her  death,  accompanying  this 
with  the  assurance  that  she  would  then  unburden  her  soul 
of  a  dreadful  secret,  which  would,  if  unrevealed,  weigh  her 
down  to  darkness  and  despair.  Never  for  a  moment  imag- 
ining what  would  be  the  nature  of  her  confession,  I  vowed 
to  her  heart's  content  Then  she  told  me  that  my  child 
was  still  alive  and  a  pupil  at  the  mission  house  o*n  the 
island  of  Mackinaw,  and  bore  the  name  of  Flora  Hawes. 
Contrary  to  all  expectations,  she  recovered.  I  hurried 
away  to  find  my  child ;  she  was  not  upon  the  island,  but 
from  the  kind-hearted  pastor  I  learned  that  she  was  here  as 
the  protegee  of  a  young  Englishman  who  had  been  connected 
with  the  army  at  that  point.  Hither  I  followed  her,  but, 
for  my  oath's  sake,  dare  not  reveal  myself.  Yet  my  watch- 
ful eye  has  been  upon  her;  and  oh  how  my  heart  has 
yearned  to  clasp  her  to  this  bosom  as  my  own  I  Had  I 


312  LOST,  A    WIFE. 

known  who  the  Mr.  Fenn  was  that  report  assigned  as  her 
lover  and  betrothed  husband,  I  should  have  trembled. 
But  she  is  safe.  A  few  weeks  ago  Katy  died ;  and  here  I 
am  to  claim  my  child  and  the  child  of  my  angel  wife.  I 
tell  you,  sir,"  he  continued,  "  my  impatience  required  an- 
other opiate  to  make  it  remain  quiet  when  I  saw  her  lying 
so  calmly  on  your  breast  and  witnessed  the  impatient  ges- 
ture with  which  you  bade  me  stand  aside.  But  my  time 
had  not  come;  and  with  something  like  a  shudder  of  defi- 
ance coursing  rapidly  along  every  nerve  and  a  slight  tremor 
of  the  heart,  I  waited  on." 

"  It  was  you,  then,"  interrupted  his  listener,  "  who  sent 
the  piano  and  wrote  that  mysterious  letter,  and  so  forth  ? 
It  is  all  plain  now.  Mysteries  are  not  such  strange  things, 
after  all.  We  gaze  at  them  as  when  in  childhood  we  saw 
huge  spectres  in  the  dark  chamber  where  we  lay  upon  the 
bed,  yet  could  not  sleep ;  but  with  a  single  ray  of  light  the 
vision  is  cleared,  and  the  grim  phantom  becomes  no  more 
than  a  dark  shadow  of  the  friendly  clock,  or  a  swaying  of 
the  curtain  opposite.  What  a  scattering  of  mysteries  you 
have  caused,  Dupont !  But  I  am  resigned  now.  Flora  has 
lost  a  husband  who  I  have  always  been  conscious  could 
never  have  been  the  possessor  of  her  first  and  purest  affec- 
tion, and  in  return  has  found  a  father  whom  I  know  she 
tfill  dearly  love.  For  my  consolation  I  have  found  a  friend 
who  will  never  forsake  me.  Flora  will  love  her  uncle  with 
the  same  careful  interest  with  which  she  has  always  re- 
garded me.  This  is  one  pearl,  at  least,  which  I  have  suc- 
ceeded in  digging  out  from  the  ruins." 

"  Yes,  and  a  brother,"  replied  his  companion.  "  You 
have  forgotten  that  you  have  found  a  brother.  Do  you  not 
deem  this  of  sufficient  value  to  pay  for  the  claiming?" 

"  I  have  gathered  and  cherished  it  with  a  truly  thankful 
heart.  Who  knows  better  than  I  how  to  prize  every  rew- 
born  affection,  when  all  die  so  rapidly  away  the  insiant  I 
feel  them  mine  2".  . 


LOST,  A  WIFK  343 

At  an  early  hour  Lewis  Fenn  repaired  to  Mrs.  Lane's  to 
Inquire  concerning  Lura.  Flora  met  him  with  an  anxioui 
face,  pale  from  her  nightly  vigils,  yet  looking  very  lovely  in 
ner  plain  white  morning  dress. 

"How  proud  he  will  be  of  her!"  he  thought,  as  she  ap- 
proached him,  and  tenderly  he  kissed  her  pale  cheek,  the 
ardor  of  his  love  all  gone,  but  in  its  stead  a  lasting  affection 
for  his  sister's  child.  Yes,  there  were  her  eyes,  so  large  and 
full  of  soul,  so  dreamy  in  their  expression,  as  they  looked 
down  into  his,  as  if  reading  in  their  depths  the  great  long- 
buried  love  which  came  forth  as  pure  and  holy  as  his  sister 
knew  it. 

"  Lura  is  no  better,"  she  replied  to  his  inquiry;  "and  oh, 
I  fear  she  will  never  be."  Her  voice  trembled,  and  tears 
came  ebbing  up  to  her  eyes. 

A  pang  shot  through  the  heart  of  the  listener,  and  he 
asked,  hurriedly, 

" Can  I  not  do  something?  It  is  cruel  in  you  to  deprive 
me  of  this  pleasure,  if  anything  is  needed,  and  there  must 
be.  Let  me  go  to  her  room  and  consult  with  the  physician 
and  nurse.  She  must  be  saved." 

Flora  looked  at  him  steadily  for  a  moment  Earnest 
solicitude  was  apparent  in  every  feature;  and  turning  away, 
she  bade  him  follow  her. 

Lura  was  very  pale,  as  she  lay  there  motionless  upon  the 
bed,  and  her  eyes  were  fixed  with  a  wild,  steady  glare  upon 
the  door,  as  he  entered,  Suddenly  she  extended  her  hand 
toward  him. 

"  Come,  my  brother,"  she  whispered ;  "  I  was  waiting  for 
you." 

Mr.  Fenn  approached  and  took  the  burning  hand  in  his. 

"  Tell  me,"  she  continued,  in  a  still  lower  tone.  "  You 
did  not  tell  him  ?  Oh  no ;  I  knew  you  would  not.  How 
he  would  hate  me  if  he  knew  alii  But  he  does  not — oh  no 
— and  he  never  shall." 

A  look  of  peaceful  content  stole  over  her  face,  as  hie  band 


344  LOST,  A   WIFE. 

smoothed  her  fevered  brow,  and  she  lay  quietly  upon  her 
pillow. 

"  It  is  not  all  caused  by  the  injury  which  she  received. 
The  physician  told  me  so,"  said  Mrs.  Waters,  in  what  was 
intended  to  be  a  whisper,  but  it  was  sufficiently  loud  in 
tone  to  arouse  Lura,  who  turned  her  head  and  looked  into 
the  face  beside  her. 

"  Oh,  I  thought  you  had  gone,"  she  said,  faintly.  "  You 
will  stay  with  me,  my  brother?" 

His  reply  soothed  her,  and  she  lay  as  quietly  as  before. 

"  It's  his  opinion,"  continued  the  loquacious  nurse,  "  that 
she  has  something  upon  her  mind.  Miss  Flora  thinks  she 
studies  too  much;  but  I  don't  know.  She  is  very  bad." 

The  physician  corroborated  her  words  when  he  came, 
and  added, 

"  She  seems  a  little  better  this  morning.  I  hope  to  keep 
the  fever  in  subjection,  and  it  will  soon  spend  itself.  It  is 
necessary,  however,  that  she  should  be  kept  very  quiet,  and 
her  slightest  wishes  gratified.  The  family,  I  understand, 
are  predisposed  to  insanity,  but  in  this  case  we  hope  to  ren- 
der it  only  a  temporary  affair ;"  and  he  moved  about  the 
room  with  a  cat-like  tread,  answering  all  the  inquiries  pro- 
posed by  Mr.  Fenn  and  the  others  in  a  low,  musical  voice 
which  seemed  to  hush  rather  than  disturb  his  excitable 
patient. 

Thus  two  weeks  rolled  by,  and  Lura  was  pronounced  out 
of  danger.  Mr.  Fenn  had  been  received  into  the  sick-room 
at  least  once  a  day  during  this  time,  for  she  missed  him 
when  he  was  away,  and  the  presence  of  her  brother,  as  she 
undoubtedly  thought  him,  seemed  to  soothe  her. 

On  more  than  one  occasion  had  he  heard  his  name 
coupled  with  some  endearing  appellation,  and  the  truth 
slowly  dawned  upon  him  that  he  was  beloved  by  her.  As 
the  calm  summer  morning  closes  the  gloomy  night  into 
silent  shades,  so  peacefully  stole  the  conviction  over  hia 
troubled  souL 


LOST,  A   WIFE.  345 

"I  shall  wait  no  longer,"  said  Mr.  Dupont,  one  fine  morn- 
ing, as  Mr.  Fenn  prepared  to  leave  the  hotel.  "Flora's  anx- 
iety for  her  friend  is  past,  and  to-day  she  shall  know  that  her 
name  is  Flora  Dupont,  and  that  her  lineage  is  as  high  and 
noble  as  that  of  any  lady  in  this  city  where  she  has  so  often 
received  their  scorn  and  taunts  because  they  thought  her 
an  Indian  girl.  Ha,  ha !  the  dark  shadows  that  have  sur- 
rounded my  joys  vanish  before  the  approaching  future, 
which  I  already  behold  glowing  with  the  excess  of  pleasure 
which  my  paternal  hand  shall  lavish  upon  the  'beautiful 
heiress.' " 

I^ewis  Fenn  smiled,  wished  him  a  speedy  realization  of 
his  blissful  dreams,  and  left  the  house. 


CHAPTER   XLI. 

FOUND,  A   FATHER. 

IT  was  a  sultry  afternoon.  The  leaves  hung  motionlesi 
upon  the  trees,  and  the  shadows  slept  beneath  them  on 
the  parched  earth ;  the  birds,  with  drooping  wings,  sat  silent 
upon  the  branches,  half  opening  their  dreamy  eyes,  as  the 
industrious  bee,  intent  upon  his  labor,  broke  the  stillness 
with  his  monotonous  song  while  he  robbed  the  luxurious 
flower  of  its  honeyed  sweets,  and  with  a  continuous  hum 
of  exultation  flew  past  with  his  pilfered  trophies  back  to 
his  hive. 

Mrs.  Lane  was  reclining  upon  a  sofa  that  had  been 
wheeled  out  upon  the  balcony,  and  near  her  sat  the  rosy- 
cheeked  waiting-maid,  quietly  fanning  her.  The  thin  lace 
curtains  hung,  undisturbed  by  any  intruding  breeze,  before 
the  open  window  of  the  chamber  in  which  the  sick  one  lay, 
while  the  half-closed  shutters  threw  over  the  apartment  a 
quiet  shade  that  wooed  repose  and  filled  the  mind  with 
peaceful  dreams. 

Mrs.  Waters  felt  the  influence  creeping  over  herself,  and 
reclined  upon  the  easy  lounge,  half  dozing,  half  wondering 
if  Mr.  Fenn  were  really  reading  all  those  loving  words  from 
the  open  book  which  he  held  in  his  hand. 

Flora  had  withdrawn  to  the  parlor,  and,  weary  and  worn 
with  her  assiduous  attentions  to  her  helpless  friend,  had 
thrown  herself  upon  a  sofa,  and  was  sleeping  sweetly.  The 
windows  were  closed  to  exclude  the  scorching  rays  of  the 
July  sun,  but  the  door  that  opened  into  the  hall  waa  left 
ajar,  and  the  street  door  was  opened,  to  allure,  if  possible 
pome  faiatly  -struggling  breeze  -ir.to  the  sultry  mansion, 
Ml 


FOUND,  A  FATHER.  347 

Flora,  however,  heeded  them  not,  if  they  came ;  for  with 
her  dark  curls  pushed  back  from  her  face,  one  arm  thrown 
carelessly  over  her  head  and  a  little  unslippered  foot  peep- 
ing out  from  beneath  her  white  dress,  she  slept  on. 

A  sound  as  of  some  one  approaching  might  have  been 
heard  at  the  door  had  any  one  been  near  to  listen,  for  a 
middle-aged  gentleman,  richly  dressed  and  wearing  a  heavv 
gold  fob-chain,  had  sprung  up  the  marble  steps  and  halted 
for  a  moment  before  taking  hold  of  the  bell-knob.  He  was 
no  stranger  to  black  George,  who  had  nearly  every  day  since 
the  accident  answered  his  summons,  as  he  came  to  inquire 
after  the  injured  Lura.  But  to-day  there  was  a  deeper  color 
upon  his  cheeks  and  a  brighter  light  in  his  large  dark  e}res  as 
he  tripped  with  unusual  buoyancy  up  the  steps  and  paused 
for  an  instant  at  the  open  door. 

His  quick  glance  perceived  at  once  at  the  farther  ex- 
tremity of  the  dimly-lighted  room  the  outlines  of  a  re- 
cumbent figure  robed  in  white,  and  his  heart  unhesitatingly 
told  him  who  it  was.  The  soft  velvet  carpets  gave  back  no 
echo  to  his  light  tread,  as  he  approached  and  stood  beside 
her.  How  lovely  she  looked !  Her  long  dark  lashes  lay 
drooped  upon  a  cheek  where  the  soft  rose-tints  were  nest- 
ling ;  her  lips,  which  boasted  a  richer  hue,  were  parted,  as 
if  holding  sweet  converse  with  some  fairy  sister  in  that  land 
over  which  her  dreams  were  reveling,  while  a  smile,  the  pre- 
cious legacy  of  her  angel  mother,  was  lurking  about  them. 
Oh,  how  his  heart  did  plead  for  one  paternal  embrace,  for 
one  kiss  upon  those  fresh  young  lips  I  But  no ;  he  would 
not  wake  her;  and  taking  from  his  pocket  a  pencil  and 
some  paper,  he  hurriedly  wrote  as  follows : 

"DEAR  FLORA:  Sleep  on,  unconscious  that  beside  you 
stands  one  who  would  gladly  snatch  you  from  your  blissful 
dreams  and  press  you  to  his  throbbing  heart,  which  has  for 
BO  many  years  been  sad  and  lonely  without  you.  But  I  for- 
bear,. You  have  heard  Mr.  Fenn  speak  o|  his  new-found 


348  FOUND,  A  FATHER. 

brother.  Start  not  when  you  read  that  Arthur  Dupont, 
who  now  sits  beside  you  and  impatiently  writes  these  lines 
for  your  perusal,  is  also  your  father — not  the  guilty  being 
you  have  always  supposed  him  to  be,  for  your  mother  was 
as  pure  and  of  as  noble  blood  as  my  own.  My  precious 
child,  at  five  o'clock  I  will  return  to  this  room,  where  I 
hope  to  meet  you.  Adieu. 

"ARTHUR  DUPONT." 

Having  folded  this,  he  placed  it  upon  her  pillow  and 
stole  quietly  from  the  room. 

The  footsteps  of  Mr.  Fenn,  coming  down  the  winding  stair- 
way leading  from  Lura's  room,  disturbed  the  fair  sleeper,  and 
she  arose  hurriedly,  her  hand  falling  upon  the  folded  paper 
beside  her.  Mechanically  taking  it  up,  she  perceived  it  was 
intended  for  her.  With  a  hurried  eagerness  she  devoured 
its  contents ;  and  with  a  stifled  scream,  she  sank  back  upon 
the  sofa,  pale  and  trembling.  Upon  looking  up,  she  saw 
Mr.  Fenn  coming  toward  her,  for  as  he  was  passing  the  door, 
he  noticed  the  paper  in  her  hand  and  the  wild,  startled  look 
in  her  eyes,  and  immediately  divined  the  cause. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Fenn,"  she  exclaimed,  "  you  knew  this,  and  did 
not  tell  me  ?  Arthur  Dupont  your  brother  and  my  father  I" 
and  she  threw  herself  wildly  upon  his  bosom. 

"  Yes,  Flora,  and  your  heart  is  more  truthfully  mine  in 
our  present  relation  than  it  ever  could  have  been  had  you 
become  my  wife.  Is  it  not  so,  my  precious  one  ?" 

Her  heart  did  not  doubt  it.  She  had  loved  Mr.  Fenn,  as 
ene  once  thought,  with  a  sister's  love,  but  never  with  that 
unfaltering  devotion  which  had  characterized  a  former  affec- 
tion ;  and  now,  as  she  saw  the  vows  she  had  made  that  were 
to  connect  her  life  with  his  for  ever  melt  away  before  the 
revelation  that  other  ties  had  clasped  them  in  a  family  bond 
into  which  another  and  a  more  passionate  love  could  never 
enter,  she  felt  how  little  she  had  understood  herself,  and 
silent  praise  and  thanksgiving  arose  from  her  trusting  heart 


FOUND,  A  FATHER.  349 

to  Him  who  had  guided  her  wandering  feet  over  the  hidden 
path! 

At  the  appointed  hour  Arthur  Dupont  re-entered  the 
spacious  parlor,  where  his  child  stood  waiting  for  him. 
"  My  father  I"  "  My  daughter !"  burst  simultaneously  from 
their  full  hearts,  and  his  arms  clasped  in  fond  embrace  hia 
Lmg-lost  child — her  whom  for  many  years  he  mourned  as 
dead,  and  awoke  at  last  from  this  bitter  dream  to  find 
beyond  his  reach,  kept  from  his  presence  by  a  high  barrier 
which  he  himself,  unfortunately,  had  been  compelled  to 
erect.  Now,  however,  it  was  broken  down,  and  he  was  no 
longer  a  lonely  wanderer  over  life's  desert. 

The  shadows  of  evening  had  followed  the  hot,  sultry  day 
before  the  story  had  all  been  told,  and  Flora  Hawes  saw  the 
dark  spectre  which  had  pertinaciously  haunted  her  for  so 
many  years  shrink  away  and  disappear,  while  in  its  place 
arose  in  all  their  splendor  before  her,  youth's  bright  hopes 
to  lead  her  on  and  fill  her  future  with  golden  hours. 

"  Lura  dear,"  a  sweet  voice  whispered  that  night,  as  Flora 
bent  over  her  sick  friend  to  bid  her  good-night,  "  are  you 
not  able  to  be  made  very  happy  ?" 

The  deep  gray  eyes  looked  wonderingly  into  hers. 

"  Mr.  Fenn  loves  you ;  and  without  asking  me,  he  has 
my  full  permission  to  do  so." 

"Flora!" 

"  I  mean  it.  His  lips  have  spoken  it.  Yet  perhaps  it  is 
not  kind  in  me  to  anticipate  him  in  this  avowal.  It  will  be 
just  as  sweet,  however,  in  its  repetition,  so  please  hurry  and 
get  well.  I  have  so  much  to  tell  you.  Oh,  Lura,  God  is  very 
good  to  us.  Can  you  not  thank  Him  for  His  mercies  ?" 

"  Yes,  Flora,  I  do  thank  Him." 

From  that  night  Lura  rapidly  improved.  The  faded  roses 
upon  her  cheeks  bloomed  afresh,  and  became  more  brilliant 
than  ever  before.  When  the  literary  world  was  again  aston- 
ished at  the  appearance  of  a  new  work,  more  brilliant  and 
fascinating,  even,  than  the  popular  "  Thorny  Way,"  and  by 
to 


350  FOUND,  A  FATHER. 

the  same  author,  Mr.  Fenn  kissed  the  animated  face,  as  he 
whispered, 

"  And  this  little  genius  whom  the  world  vainly  endeavora 
to  natter  is  to  be  my  wife  I" 

"What  a  strange  world!"  replied  Lura.  "I,  the  poor 
despised  'Fury,'  becoming  the  chosen  wife  of  the  noble, 
alented  and  much  coveted  Lewis  Fennl  Strange,  un- 
accountably strange!" 

"  Modest  worth  brings  its  own  reward,"  said  Mr.  Fenn, 
his  handsome  face  lighted  up  with  inexpressible  joy. 

The  day,  long  and  anxiously  looked  for,  at  last  arrived, 
when  Flora  was  to  step  forth  from  her  school-day  life  into 
the  broad  world,  a  brilliant  actress  on  the  busy  stage,  where 
an  entirely  different  scene  was  opening  before  her  from  any 
in  which  she  had  hitherto  taken  an  active  part. 

A  public  examination  of  Mrs.  Willard's  school  was  no  in- 
different affair,  and  upon  this  occasion  every  available  space 
in  the  extensive  apartment  where  spectators  were  admitted 
was  fully  occupied.  Flora  had  many  times  appeared  before 
them  in  the  semi-annual  examinations,  but  a  whisper  had 
spread  abroad  that  the  poor  orphan  had  suddenly  become  a 
rich  heiress,  which  was  in  itself  sufficient  to  draw  all  eyes 
admiringly  upon  her. 

She  was  indeed  beautiful,  as  every  one  declared,  when, 
with  flushed  cheeks,  she  stepped  to  the  front  of  the  stage, 
and  with  a  voice  clear  and  silvery,  yet  at  times  a  little  trem- 
ulous with  suppressed  emotion,  pronounced  her  valedictory 
address,  and  bade  her  teachers  and  companions  an  affection- 
ate farewell. 

She  was  plainly  dressed  in  white,  as  were  most  of  her 
companions,  notwithstanding  the  earnest  protestations  of 
her  proud  father,  yet  in  compliance  with  Lura's  solicita- 
tions, there  were  pearls  gleaming  among  her  jetty  curls  arid 
clasping  her  plump  round  arms. 

"I  cannot  outshine  the  brilliant  authoress,"  she  laugh- 
ingly replied  to  her  father's  earnest  entreaties  that  she 


FOUND,  A  FATHER.  351 

would  deck  herself  as  he  wished.  "  We  have  walked  too 
long  side  by  side  to  justify  me  in  any  attempted  display, 
and  thus  stepping  so  far  from  her ;"  and  with  a  filial  kiss 
burning  upon  his  cheek,  the  happy  father  yielded  entirely 
to  her  wishes. 

But  the  time  would  soon  come  when  he  was  to  be  fully 
gratified.  There  were  more  farewells  to  be  spoken,  many 
promises  of  reunion  to  be  uttered,  and  then  Arthur  Dupont 
would  bear  her  to  his  more  northern  home. 

"  Poor  Mrs.  Lane !"  said  Flora,  over  and  over  again,  as 
she  thought  of  the  parting;  "who  will  while  away  the 
lone  hours  with  some  favorite  book,  even  into  the  long, 
dreary  nights,  when  sleep  refuses  to  come  with  her  sooth- 
ing balm?  Who  will  accompany  her  in  her  morning 
drives  and  patiently  convey  to  her  imprisoned  soul  the 
beauties  that  surround  them?" 

She  saw  tears  upon  the  still  pale  cheek,  and  the  lips 
trembled  with  emotion,  as  the  stricken  one  said, 

"  I  shall  be  very  brave,  and  shall  yield  you  up  as  one 
deserving  such  chastenings  should." 

But  the  repeated  promise  that  her  father  and  herself 
would  spend  the  coming  winter  with  her  would  bring  the 
color  faintly  back  to  her  cheeks  and  the  smile  to  her  quiv- 
ering lips.  Lura,  too,  would  be  very  lonely,  but  Mr.  Fenn 
would  return  at  the  holidays,  and  the  intermediate  space 
was  to  be  filled  with  a  visit  to  New  York. 

"Then  such  hard  and  constant  study  as  no  pupil  was 
ever  before  guilty  of." 

This  was  a  whispered  avowal  to  Flora's  private  ear,  as 
the  inconsistent  Mr.  Fenn  would  not  give  his  consent  to 
such  close  application,  declaring  that  observations  during 
the  long  travels  over  the  Continent  would  prove  more  bene- 
ficial to  her  fertile  mind  than  all  the  books  which  she  could 
possibly  devour  before  the  next  glorious  spring  should  be 
upon  them  with  all  its  promised  blessings. 

"  But  I  am  so  anxious  to  surprise  him  with  my  Italian 


352  FOUND,  A  FATHER. 

and  German,"  she  continued ;  and  so  Flora  promised  not 
to  divulge  the  secret  of  her  determined  disobedience,  unless 
Bhe  heard  through  the  kindness  of  one  or  more  of  her 
promised  correspondents  that  her  cheek  was  growing  pale 
or  that  old  ugly  pain  had  returned  to  her  head. 

The  golden  autumn,  with  its  rich  ripe  fruits,  and  its 
dreamy  days,  so  full  of  quiet  memories  and  fraught  with 
"leasant  imaginings,  was  near  at  hand,  when  Arthur  Du- 
pont  and  his  beautiful  daughter  started  on  their  projected 
journey,  first  stopping  a  few  days  at  the  Springs,  then  at 
Niagara,  and  at  last,  after  visiting  every  point  of  interest  on 
their  route,  to  rest  at  Montreal,  the  home  of  her  nativity. 
from  whence,  an  exile,  she  had  roamed  tempest-tossed  for 
nearly  eighteen  years. 

There  was  her  mother's  grave.  There  were  the  scenes 
that  that  mother  had  loved  when  she  came  there,  a  happy, 
hopeful  bride.  There  also  was  buried  the  faithless  nurse 
who  had  brought  upon  herself  many  years  of  sorrow  and 
relentingg  for  her  disobedience.  Upon  each  could  she  shed 
many  tears  that  would  come  welling  up  from  her  young 
heart — upon  the  one  of  sympathetic  grief  and  Christian 
forgiveness,  while  upon  the  other  would  fall  those  only 
which  spring  from  the  purest  fountain  of  filial  love,  called 
forth  by  the  blessed  name  of  "  Mother."  Even  though  we 
read  it  merely  upon  the  cold  white  marble  which  other 
hands  have  traced  in  memory  of  those  we  knew  not — even 
then  it  sweeps  over  the  silvery  chords  of  affection  which 
vibrate  through  the  inmost  soul  with  a  low,  painful  music, 
as  the  dirge-notes  sound  over  that  one  form  which  when  it 

0 

it  is  fallen,  leaves  in  the  heart  a  darkened,  desolate  chamber 
where  no  other  foot  can  ever  wander. 

Flora  had  taken  a  peep  beneath  the  sombre  curtain,  and 
wondered  at  beholding  a  face,  beautiful  as  the  hand  of  fancy 
could  paint,  around  which  her  love  was  twining  with  the 
sacredness  of  a  daughter's  devotion.  Yet  there  was  an- 
other, ever  true  to  the  sense  of  duty,  which  had  hitherto 


FOUND,  A  FATHER.  353 

prompted  every  act  of  Arthur  Dupont  toward  his  foolishly 
selfish  mother;  he  had  spoken  as  lightly  as  he  could  of  her 
faults,  and  screened  her  as  far  as  possible  from  the  just  in- 
dignation of  his  child.  She,  however,  had  heard  enough 
to  inspire  her  with  secret  dread  of  meeting  her. 

It  was  evening  when  they  arrived  in  the  dim  old  city; 
and  after  seeing  Flora  comfortably  located  in  a  hotel,  her 
father  left  her  and  sought  alone  his  home.  Clara,  the  pretty, 
sprightly  Clara,  bounded  into  his  arms  with  all  the  affection 
of  her  confiding  nature,  and  asked  over  and  over  again  in 
the  same  breath  if  she  was  not  to  see  that  beautiful  crea- 
ture for  whom  she  had  been  waiting.  But  he  pushed  her 
gently  aside,  embraced  his  father,  who  received  him  with 
open  arms,  kissed  reverently  the  cheek  of  his  stately  mother, 
then  turning  to  Clara,  as  if  he  had  that  moment  for  the  first 
time  noticed  her  oft-repeated  question,  replied  quietly,  as  he 
again  and  again  kissed  her  fair  young  brow, 

"  Yes,  darling,  I  have  brought  her,  but  you  cannot  see  her 
until  to-morrow,  and  not  then,  unless  your  grandmamma 
gives  her  full  slnd  unqualified  permission." 

"  Oh,  that  she  will,"  replied  the  girl,  gayly.  "  We  shall  all 
be  so  happy  unless  you  dare  again  to  tell  me,  and  in  her 
presence,  that  she  is  more  beautiful  than  your  poor  niece, 
who  might  have  been  considered  rather  pretty  had  it  noJ 
been  for  her  snub  nose  and  yellow  hair." 

Her  uncle  laughed  in  spite  of  his  mother's  altered  ex- 
pression and  her  unusually  pale  cheek. 

"  Will  you  tell  me,"  she  inquired,  "  why  my  permission  is 
more  necessary  to  her  presence  than  that  of  your  father? 
I  have  never  heard  of  the  beauty  about  which  Clara  is  so 
w  ild,  excepting  from  her  lips.  If  she  is  worthy  of  your 
love,  you  need  not  hesitate  to  bring  her  to  your  home,  for 
be  assured  my  aged  eyes  long  to  behold  the  happiness  of 
my  only  child." 

A  tear  trembled  in  her  dark  eye  for  a  moment,  then  fell 
heavily  upon  her  rich  dress.  Clara  was  commissioned  to 
so* 


354  FOUND,  A  FATHER. 

prepare  a  lunch  for  her  uncle,  for,  as  he  said,  "it  would 
taste  so  much  better  from  her  hand  than  from  that  of 
another ;"  and  as  the  door  closed  behind  her,  he  said,  in  a 
solemn  voice, 

"  My  mother,  the  happiness  which  you  now  express  your- 
self as  desirous  to  bestow  upon  your  son  would  have  betn 
as  gratefully  received  seventeen  years  ago  as  to-night,  and 
it  would  have  fallen  with  a  more  comforting  effect,  for  this 
heart  was  lacerated  then  by  a  grief  whose  bitterness  you 
never  knew.  Oh,  how  gladly  would  I  spare  you  this  pain 
which  circumstances  have  compelled  me  to  inflict !" 

He  had  risen,  and  was  walking  across  the  room  with 
rapid  strides. 

"  My  son,"  said  his  father,  "  do  not  agitate  us  unneces- 
sarily. Whoever  she  may  be,  high  or  low,  rich  or  poor,  if 
she  is  your  wife,  our  arms  are  open  to  receive  her.  Bring 
her  to  us  that  we  may  prove  the  truth  of  our  words." 

"You  mistake  me,  dear  father;  I  have  no  wife,  and  never 
shall  have  again,  but  I  have  a  daughter,  beautiful  and  good 
as  she  was  whom  I  once  called  by  that  endearing  name,  and 
vrho  in  giving  life  to  that  child  passed  away  from  my  sight, 
and  now  sleeps  yonder  in  the  quiet  shade,  while  beside  her 
is  a  little  empty  coffin  in  which,  thank  Godl  the  delicate 
form  of  my  child  was  never  laid." 

"Curse  her!"  exclaimed  his  mother,  starting  suddenly 
from  her  chair,  and  then  as  suddenly  falling  back  into  it 
again.  "Yes,  may  her  memory  be  cursed,  and  the  happi- 
ness of  her  child  blasted  for  ever !" 

"  Wife,  wife !"  said  the  old  gentleman,  approaching  her. 
But  she  did  not  hear  him.  Her  last  words  had  been 
breathed  through  her  closed  lips,  and  now  she  leaned 
heavily  against  her  chair,  insensible  to  the  words  of  con- 
solation and  forgiveness  which  would  have  been  gladly 
poured  into  her  ear. 

They  raised  her  gently  to  bear  her  away,  when  they  saw 


FOUND,  A  FATHER.  355 

the  crimson  blood  slowly  trickling  from  her  mouth  down 
upon  her  cheek. 

"I  have  killed  her!  I  have  killed  her!"  exclaimed 
Arthur,  in  despair,  as  he  caught  her  in  his  arms  and  bore 
her  to  a  sofa  near,  then  rang  the  bell  violently. 

"  Hasten  immediately  to  the  nearest  physician,"  was 
Ms  command  to  the  servant  who  answered  the  summons, 
and  he  then  turned  to  chafe  the  hands  of  his  miserable 
mother. 

"  No,  no,  my  boy,"  said  the  gray-haired  sire,  raising  hia 
head,  as  the  servant  closed  the  door  •  "  you  did  not  kill  her. 
Your  words  were  strange,  and  created  in  my  heart  a  terrible 
emotion,  but  they  were  not  unkind,  not  cruel." 

Dora  and  the  housekeeper  entered  with  restoratives,  and 
soon  afterward  the  physician  came,  and  the  distressed  lady 
was  carried  to  her  chamber.  When  the  doctor  entered,  he 
shook  his  head  mysteriously,  avowed  his  belief  that  "  the 
good  lady  "  was  in  a  very  critical  condition,  and  with  the 
promise  of  a  speedy  return  left  the  house. 

The  father  and  son  sat  long  together  that  night,  as  the 
Bad  story  of  treachery  and  wrong  was  rehearsed  for  the 
last  time. 

"  Never,"  exclaimed  Arthur,  "  shall  this  dreadful  tale  be 
repeated  by  me  again.  My  child  is  found,  and  this  great 
happiness  shall  bury  the  past  for  ever  from  thought." 

"  You  will  bring  her  to  us  ?"  asked  the  father. 

"  Yes,  to-morrow." 

There  was  one  dark  and  gloomy  chamber  in  that  stately 
mansion,  as  the  beautiful  heiress  entered  it,  but  there  were 
hoarts  more  dark  and  gloomy  than  this,  and  one  there  was 
into  which  no  ray  of  hope  could  enter. 

Clara  was  in  ecstasies,  and  whispered  in  her  uncle's  ear 
confidentially,  soon  after  the  introduction,  that  she  didn't 
care  if  he  did  say  she  was  more  beautiful  than  herself,  for 
she  never  saw  any  one  so  superb.  The  kind  old  sire 
took  her  in  his  arms  and  blessed  her.  But  Dora  frowned 


366  FOUND,  A  FATHER, 

and  her  dark  eyes  gathered  blackness,  as  the  servant* 
huddled  together  and  talked  over  the  merits  of  their  new 
mistress. 

(<  I  can't  see,"  said  the  old  housekeeper,  who  figured  as 
the  orator  upon  the  occasion,  "how  she  came  to  be  his 
daughter,  but  I  think  I  can  'smell  a  rat'  as  far  as  any- 
body ;"  and  she  shrugged  her  shoulders,  as  if  to  overpower 
by  force  the  great  amount  of  knowledge  which  her  exten« 
sive  mind  might  be  supposed  to  contain.  "There  was 
a  mighty  sight  of  talk  about  something  just  before  I  came, 
and  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  'twas  this  and  nothing  more." 

"  Oh,  pish  I"  joined  in  the  cook.  "  There  is  many  as  good 
as  he  that's  had  young  lady  daughters  jumping  up  where 
they  wasn't  expected.  I  don't  see  what  makes  it  so  dread- 
ful strange." 

"I  wish  she'd  stayed  where  she  came  from,"  said  a 
third.  "She  looks  too  fine  to  say  'please'  often  to  the 
likes  of  us." 

But  Dora  dispelled  the  group  by  an  angry  gesture  and 
an  expression  of  wonder  if  they  knew  what  they  were 
talking  about. 

"  Why  will  you  not  let  me  go  to  her  ?"  asked  Flora,  one 
day,  of  her  father,  as  he  was  talking  to  her  of  his  mother. 
"  I  am  sure  she  would  grant  me  the  permission  if  she  knew 
how  anxious  I  am  to  do  her  good.  Tell  her,  dear  father, 
what  an  experienced  nurse  I  am,  and  ask  her  if  I  may 
not  come."  - . 

"You  know  she  must  remain  very  quiet.  Will  you 
silence  her  if  she  attempts  to  talk  ?" 

"I  will  be  the  dumbest  of  mutes,  and  compel  her  to 
follow  my  example." 

More  than  a  week,  however,  elapsed  before  her  father 
bade  her  follow  him,  and  in  a  few  moments  she  found 
herself  in  a  darkened  chamber  in  which  lay  the  prostrate 
form  of  her  invalid  grandmother. 


FOUND,  A  FATHER.  357 

"Flora  has  come  to  sit  by  you,"  said  Arthur,  bending 
over  the  bed.  "Kemember  your  promise;  do  not  talk 
much  with  her." 

Flora  tenderly  kissed  the  sunken  face,  as  she  whispered, 

"  I  know  that  you  will  be  very  good,  so  that  I  may  stay 
with  you." 

The  invalid  motioned  with  her  hand  to  raise  the  curtain, 
and  her  request  was  granted.  One  look  into  the  beaming 
young  face  beside  her,  and  the  dark  eyes  closed,  while  a 
sigh  came  fluttering  up  from  her  burdened  heart.  Flora 
took  the  soft  white  hand  in  her  own,  and  told  her  in  low, 
eilvery  accents  of  her  pleasant  journey,  and  how  kind  and 
good  her  dear  father  was,  and  how  charming  it  was  to  live 
in  such  a  beautiful  world,  where  God  had  surrounded  us 
with  so  much  to  please  and  cheer  us.  At  last  the  tea-bell 
rang,  and  the  nurse  told  her  she  had  better  go,  as  the  lady 
must  be  very  tired. 

The  invalid  whispered, 

"No,  no." 

"  Then  I  will  come  again  ?"  she  whispered,  as  she  kissed 
the  pale  face. 

"  To-morrow." 

And  Flora  descended  to  the  supper-room  with  a  happy 
heart. 

Weeks  went  by,  and  each  succeeding  day  found  her  at 
the  bedside  of  her  grandmother,  who  was  slowly  but  surely 
sinking  away  from  life.  f 

"  I  have  greatly  wronged  you,  my  child ;  do  you  forgive 
it  all?"  the  old  lady  whispered,  one  day,  as  Flora  wa<* 
bending  over  her  arranging  the  pillows. 

"  Forgive  you  ?  As  freely  as  our  heavenly  Father  for- 
gives his  poor  disobedient  children.  Only  make  haste  and 
get  well,  that  I  may  prove  to  you  how  entirely  the  past  is 
forgotten  and  how  dearly  I  can  love  you." 

The  poor  woman  shook  her  head  doubtingly. 


358  FOUND,  A  FATHER 

"  No,  no,  my  caild.  You  are  young,  and  have  not  yet 
learned  your  own  heart.  You  pity  me  now  because  you 
Bee  me  ill  and  wretched ;  but  should  I  recover,  this  would 
not  be  mine.  You  could  never  love  me — no,  Flora,  you 
could  never  love  me.  Even  if  you  did,  that  would  never 
satisfy  me.  My  son  hates  me,  or  he  is  not  human." 

"My  father  hates  his  own  mother!  Oh,  you  do  not 
know  him  as  well  as  I  do.  He  loves  you.  Perhaps  he 
thinks  you  have  erred,  yet  his  love  is  as  true  and  fervent 
as  when  he  thought  you  pure.  But  say  no  more.  I  see 
the  flush  upon  your  cheek,  and  shall  lose  my  reputation 
as  nurse,  besides  being  banished  from  your  presence,  if  I 
permit  it."  She  smiled  cheerfully,  as  she  said  this,  and 
kissed  the  upturned  face  fondly. 

The  old  lady  obeyed,  and  closed  her  eyes  as  if  to  sleep, 
but  in  a  few  moments  opened  them  and  looked  beseech- 
ingly into  the  face  beside  her. 

"  Just  a  word  more,"  she  whispered.  "  When  I  am  gone, 
and  with  my  wasting  form  the  pity  which  you  now  feel  for 
me,  let  the  thought  that  I  loved  and  was  always  kind  to 
both  your  parents  awaken  in  your  kind  heart  one  fond 
remembrance  of  her  who  would  never  lay  any  claim  upon 
your  love,  because  she  was  unworthy  of  it.  Will  you, 
Flora?  will  you  plant  a  willow  over  my  grave,  through 
which  the  winds  may  make  sad  music  and  the  sunbeams 
throw  a  flickering  retinue  of  lights  and  shadows  on  the 
cold  damp  sod  that  covers  me  ?  Do  not  weep.  Life  has 
been  a  failure  with  me,  all  its  rights  and  privileges  mis- 
judged and  misimproved.  Now  I  am  to  be  removed  be- 
cause I  knew  not  how  to  use  it  as  I  ought.  It  is  just  as 
well.  I  have  outlived  all  affection.  Those  that  I  have 
nurtured  in  my  bosom  sting  me  with  hollow  words  )f 
kindness." 

"You  must  not,  oh,  you  must  not!"  exclaimed  Flora, 
itarting  to  her  feet  and  placing  her  hand  upon  her  mouth. 


FOUND,  A  FATHER.  359 

But  it  was  too  late.  A  slight  cough  for  a  moment  choked 
her  utterance,  then  the  deep  red  blood  flowed  from  hei 
lips. 

It  was  ended.  When  night  came  and  filled  the  hroad 
lawn  and  beautiful  garden  with  dark,  grim,  spectral  forms 
beneath  the  shade  of  the  overhanging  trees  and  the  vine- 
covered  arbors,  filling  the  mansion  with  darker  shadows, 
Death  came  and  hovered  over  them  all,  casting  a  deeper 
shadow  over  the  hearts  that  throbbed,  while  one  within 
those  palatial  walls  became  for  ever  still  and  pulseless. 


CHAPTER    XLII. 
THE  BROKEN  RING, 

*  TTAVEN'T  you  finished  that  letter  yet?    I  have  been 

J-JL  sitting  here  a  full  hour,  listening  to  the  incessant 
raindrops  and  the  nervous  scratching  of  your  pen,  I  can't 
imagine  what  you  find  to  write  that  will  be  at  all  interest- 
ing to  one  who  will  be  obliged  to  lay  aside  her  stitching  to 
read  it,  and  the  prospect  of  fresh  bread  and  butter  for 
breakfast." 

And  Lena  Edwards  threw  herself  languidly  back  upon 
the  luxurious  cushion  of  her  velvet  divan,  where  she  had 
for  a  long  time  been  sitting  watching  her  mother  with  an 
impatient  frown  upon  her  face,  while  she  penned  a  long, 
boastful  and  heartless  letter  to  her  absent  daughter. 

"  I  haven't  any  doubt,"  replied  the  mother,  carelessly,  as 
she  laid  aside  her  pen,  "  that  she  will  be  willing  to  break- 
fast upon  coffee  alone,  if  by  no  other  means  she  could  hear 
of  the  approaching  wedding  of  Sir  Charles  Edgarton  and 
the  grand  entertainment  so  soon  to  be  given  by  the  Lord 
Vivant  in  London  palace." 

"And  I  suppose  the  rivalry  of  the  Lady  Emma  and  my- 
self for  the  honor  of  first  clasping  the  soft  hand  of  the 
baronet  Rutherford  in  his  favorite  waltz  has  also  been  one 
of  your  choicest  topics." 

The  mother  made  no  reply  to  the  saucy  remark  from  her 
daughter,  but  quietly  folded  the  letter  which  she  had  writ- 
ten, resumed  her  seat  at  the  window,  and  looked  out  into 
the  pattering  rain. 

"Such  a  day  as  this  reminds  me  of  Pleasant  Cottage," 
Mi 


THE  BROKEN  RING.  361 

ihe  said,  abruptly,  without  looking  toward  her  daughter, 
"and  I  heartily  wish  myself  back  again  within  its  quiet 
walls.  But  things  are  changed  now.  Oh,  my  poor  boy! 
It  would  be  very  lonely  without  you ;"  and  a  tear,  the  first 
which  Lena  had  seen  for  many  months,  rolled  down  the 
faded  cheek  of  her  once  beautiful  mother. 

"  I  can't  see  what  there  ever  was  very  pleasant  about  it, 
unless  to  one  weary  of  the  world  and  disgusted  with  what 
ladies  of  a  certain  age  call  the  foolish  pomp  and  show  of 
life,  or  who  wishes  to  become  a  recluse  and  retire  with 
waning  charms  into  the  depths  of  solitude." 

"  I  remember,"  replied  the  mother,  with  a  spice  of  seri- 
ousness in  her  tone,  "that  you  did  not  consider  it  such 
a  dismal  solitude  when,  like  Robinson  Crusoe,  you  could 
have  your  man  Friday  in  the  shape  and  person  of  the  very 
eligible  Lewis  Fenn.  I  do  not  see  why  you  did  not  secure 
him,  and  save  us  from  all  this  bustle  and  fawning.  To  tell 
the  truth,  I  am  getting  tired  of  it ;  and  if  Sir  George  does 
not  soon  offer  himself  to  you,  I  shall  consider  that  you  pos- 
sess no  tact,  and  consequently  have  not  the  ability  to  profit 
by  the  privileges  at  your  command. 

"  No  doubt  as  much  as  my  honored  mother  possessed,  or 
she  would  not  have  married  the  untitled  and  humble  E. 
W.  Edwards,  when  wealth  and  position  were  in  her  power, 
forfeiting  thereby  both  of  them,"  was  the  sneering  rejoinder. 

Both  were  silent,  Mrs.  Edwards  busying  herself  looking 
out  into  the  gathering  pools  upon  the  lawn,  and  Lena  re- 
suming her  book,  which  she  had  thrown  down  some  time 
before  with  a  look  of  evident  dissatisfaction,  although  she 
had  read  but  little. 

At  last  she  said, 

"  I  really  wish  I  could  get  that  new  American  novel  just 
published  in  London.  I  think  some  one  said  at  the  dinner 
table  yesterday  that  it  is  by  the  same  author  as  '  Thorny 
Way,'  which  I  was  reading  on  the  night  of  the  terrible 
shipwreck.  Poor  Edgar!  He  said  it  reminded  him  so 

21 


362  THE  BROKEN  RING. 

much  of  our  sister.  Yet  I  could  not  see  why.  Her  heart 
and  brain  were  never  capable  of  such  throes  of  misery  or 
appeals  to  justice  and  mercy,  even  had  there  been  any  oc- 
casion for  their  being  called  forth." 

The  book  again  dropped  from  her  hand,  and  a  shade  of 
deep  thoughtfulness  clouded  her  features.  Could  it  be 
that  the  memory  of  those  broken  vows,  solemnly  made  to 
Him  who  was  able  to  command  the  winds  and  the  waves 
that  they  should  obey  Him,  came  struggling  up  through  her 
treacherous  heart,  so  filled  with  morbid  ambition  and  sel- 
fish desireo,  arousing  for  a  moment  her  slumbering  con- 
science to  trouble  and  perplex  her  ?  Possibly,  for  her  face 
became  more  and  more  troubled,  and  at  last  a  sigh  heaved 
her  agitated  bosom  and  moved  the  costly  lace  that  partially 
covered  it. 

"  These  are  blessed  days,"  she  exclaimed,  rising  to  her 
feet,  "for  they  succeed  most  gloriously  in  driving  away 
ennui  and  filling  the  soul  with  goading  horrors.  Good-bye. 
I  must  seek  Lady  Anna's  boudoir  and  talk  over  the  ap- 
proaching fete,  or  I  shall  become  a  maniac  before  my  time;" 
and  she  left  the  room. 

Darker  lowered  the  clouds  over  the  adjoining  park,  into 
which  the  tear-dimmed  eyes  of  the  unhappy  mother  were 
left  to  gaze  with  undisturbed  misery,  and  faster  fell  the  rain 
upon  the  drooping  shrubs,  and  more  copious  was  the  drip- 
ping from  the  trees,  whose  branches  bent  lower  and  lower 
beneath  the  accumulating  weight,  as  the  leaves  treasured 
up  the  crystal  drops  to  shower  them  down  upon  the  rural 
seats  beneath.  Rain,  rain,  rain!  Yet  Mrs.  Edwards  was 
wandering  away  from  the  gloomy  scenes  before  her,  back 
through  the  years  that  time  had  stretched  out  along  the 
lengthening  past.  Ah,  how  much  such  a  pensive  wanderer 
can  find  to  cheer  her  lonely  walks  if  there  are  any  flowers 
by  the  wayside  to  gather !  Yet  how  often  will  the  retiring 
foot  be  pierced  by  the  intruding  thorns  which  have  been 
scattered  along  the  path !  But  fruits  of  knowledge  have 


THE  BROKEN  RING.  363 

ripened  along  the  way,  and  it  is  well  for  the  famishing 
heart  at  times  to  turn  and  gather  them. 

It  was  raining  also  at  Edgarton  Hall,  a  few  miles  distant, 
bending  the  beautiful  flowers  and  filling  their  delicate  cups 
with  the  limpid  drops,  while  the  seared  and  withered  vines 
upon  the  arbors  swayed  languidly  to  and  fro  in  the  chilling 
breeze. 

A  fire  was  burning  briskly  upon  the  hearth  in  the  library, 
and  before  it  sat  Sir  Charles,  reclining  listlessly  in  an  arm- 
chair, with  his  feet  comfortably  elevated  upon  the  table  be- 
fore him.  Dinner  was  just  over,  and  in  no  very  pleasant 
mood  he  had  retired  thither  to  be  alone  with  his  own 
thoughts.  A  rap  upon  the  door  announced  that  he  had 
been  followed,  and  with  an  impatient  gesture  he  rose  to 
open  it. 

A  pretty,  bright-faced,  blue-eyed  girl  entered,  exclaiming, 

"  Ah,  you  naughty  cousin !  You  thought  to  steal  away 
from  me,  but  I  have  found  you." 

Edgarton  reseated  himself,  and  in  a  moment  she  waa 
upon  his  knees. 

"Tell  me  a  story,  Charles,  please  do,"  she  pleaded. 
"  Neither  Aunt  Annie  nor  mother  will  talk  to  me,  they  are 
BO  busy  talking  over  your  wedding  and  Lady  Eveline's  ele- 
gant trousseau,  and  I  don't  know  what,  until  I  am  out  of 
all  patience." 

"  Not  more  so  than  I  am,  little  one,"  he  answered,  smooth- 
ing her  hair. 

"Why,  cousin,  don't  you  like  to  get  married  and  have 
such  a  nice  time  as  Aunt  Anna  says  you  will?  Yet  I  heard 
her  tell  mother  this  morning  that  you  acted  more  as  if  you 
were  going  to  be  hanged." 

Edgarton  laughed,  as  he  muttered  something  that  sounded 
as  if  he  had  said,  "Very  much  like  it." 

"  You  wanted  a  story,  and  have  entirely  forgotten  what 
you  came  after  in  that  little  bit  of  gossip  you  have  been 
communicating,  silly  little  Floy.  You  should  not  begin  to 


364  THE  BROKEN  RING. 

develop  your  womanly  nature  so  soon.  See,  there  is  Henry 
riding  Prince  up  the  gravel  walk,  while  the  rain  is  dripping 
off  his  mane  and  down  his  shining  sides.  Go,  Floy,  and 
bring  me  the  letters,  and  tell  Henry  to  make  Prince  a  nice 
new  bed  and  rub  him  until  he  is  dry." 

Well  pleased  with  her  important  mission,  the  child  hur- 
ried from  the  room  with  all  the  consequence  with  which 
in  after  years  she  would  issue  sterner  commands.  She  SOOD 
returned,  bringing  a  package,  which  she  placed  upon  the 
table. 

Edgarton  looked  them  over  carefully,  and  then,  having 
selected  one  bearing  a  foreign  postmark,  he  broke  the  seal. 
His  eye  glanced  hurriedly  over  its  contents,  while  a  flush 
of  excitement  and  pleasure  covered  his  face.  A  short  ex- 
tract suffices  us.  It  ran  thus : 

"  Your  protegee,  Flora  Hawes,  proves  not  to  be  of  despica- 
ble lineage,  as  was  supposed,  but  the  legitimate  daughter  of 
a  very  wealthy  and  much  honored  gentleman.  She  is  now 
introduced  to  the  world  as  Flora  Dupont.  Her  betrothed, 
too,  proves  to  be  her  own  uncle,  which  readily  accounts  for 
the  limited  affection  she  bestowed  upon  him.  I  write  this 
without  the  knowledge  of  either  of  the  parties,  knowing  the 
interest  which  you  must  ever  feel  in  one  toward  whom  your 
benevolence  was  so  generously  manifested.  Please  do  not 
tell  my  mother  or  sister  that  you  have  received  this  from 
me.  LURA  EDWARDS." 

* 

"  How  strange !  Why  could  she  not  have  told  me  more? 
Perhaps  she  wished  to  learn  if  I  had  sufficient  interest  left 
to  prompt  me  to  inquire  about  her.  Provoking  girl !  Many 
weeks  must  elapse  before  I  can  hear  from  her  again.  I 
might  have  known  that  there  was  no  Indian  blood  in  her 
veins.  The  pure  rose-tints  upon  her  cheeks  plainly  told 
this ;"  and  he  arose  hurriedly  and  walked  the  floor. 

u  Dear  cousin,"  said  little  Floy,  timidly  approaching  him 


THE  BROKEN  RING.  365 

and  taking  his  hand,  "  I  don't  know  whether  you  are  happy 
or  angry,  your  eyes  look  so  strangely.  I  am  sure  mine 
don't  look  like  yours  now." 

"  I  cannot  tell  you,  Floy,  for  I  do  not  know  myself.  Run 
down  to  the  parlor  and  tell  the  ladies  that  I  am  busy  read- 
ing my  letters." 

"And  shall  I  tell  them  that  you  have  one  that  makes 
your  eyes  shine  and  your  cheeks  as  red  as  my  pretty, 
pretty  sister's  ?" 

"  Yes,  anything — tell  them  what  you  choose;"  and  for  the 
first  time  his  pretty  little  cousin  was  gently  led  from  the 
room  and  the  door  abruptly  closed  behind  her. 

A  long  time  he  stood  by  the  window,  looking  out  upon 
the  fading  grass,  upon  which  the  raindrops  were  rapidly 
falling ;  then,  turning  to  the  table,  he  penned  a  long  letter, 
which  he  carefully  directed,  and  ringing  a  bell,  summoned 
Harry  to  his  presence. 

"  Take  this  to  the  office  before  the  mail  leaves  for  Lon- 
don, which  it  will  do  in  less  than  one  hour.  Hurry,  for  it 
contains  an  important  message  which  must  not  fail  to  go 
immediately." 

The  servant  bowed,  yet  declared,  as  he  reached  the 
kitchen,  "that  he  wished  that  all  important  messages 
would  wait  for  a  pleasant  day ;  he  was  tired  of  being  wet 
through,  and  didn't  believe  there  was  any  necessity  for  an- 
other soaking." 

The  great  body  of  society  had  long  been  sensibly  agi- 
tated by  the  intelligence  of  the  approaching  nuptials  of  Sir 
Charles  Edgarton  and  Lady  Eveline  Pemberton,  the  sole 
surviving  heirs  of  their  once  vast  estates,  which,  through 
long  protracted  extravagance  and  business  inactivity,  had 
become  somewhat  reduced.  Every  one  declared  that  theii 
connection  was  a  capital  idea — every  one  excepting  Sir 
Charles  himself,  who  seemed  to  have  an  opinion  of  his  own 
in  regard  to  the  matter.  But  in  compliance  with  the  prom- 
ise given  to  his  mother  and  the  fair  lady  herself,  prirr  to 
81  • 


366  THE  BROKEN  RING, 

his  visit  to  Italy,  he  had  upon  his  return  offered  his  han.  it 
which  she  had  accepted.  It  was  hard  at  times  for  him  to 
think  himself  the  very  happy  man  that  every  one  assured 
him  he  certainly  was,  for  a  fairy  form  would  come  to  him, 
and  a  pair  of  dark,  beaming  eyes  would  look  tenderly  into 
his  when  he  dreamed,  and  would  disturb  his  waking  hours. 
Lura's  letter  had  brought  the  pleasing  phantom  into  his 
waking  reverie,  driving  away  all  other  cheerful  anticipations 
from  his  mind. 

Eight  long,  anxious  weeks  rolled  slowly  away.  Then 
came  the  story  from  Lura's  own  hand — Flora's  abduction, 
the  treachery  of  the  now-deceased  nurse,  the  restoration, 
her  visit  to  Montreal,  the  home  of  her  nativity,  and  finally 
her  expected  return  to  Troy  for  the  winter.  This  Edgarton 
re-read  for  at  least  the  third  time  before  his  decision  was 
irrevocably  formed. 

"  I  marry  Lady  Eveline,  when  Flora  Dupont  may  yet  be 
mine !"  Yet  the  consciousness  that  he  had  the  more  easily 
spoken  his  farewell  upon  the  supposition  that  she  was  an 
Indian  girl,  troubled  him.  "Would  she  not  spurn  him?" 
He  could  but  try;  and  with  this  new  determination,  he  or- 
dered his  horse,  and  with  a  lighter  heart  than  he  had  known 
for  many  months  he  rode  to  Pemberton  Castle. 

The  air  was  clear,  cold  and  still,  while  the  grass  and  the 
well-pruned  hedges  by  the  roadside  had  a  blighted  appear- 
ance, as  if  the  winter's  frosty  breath  had  blown  upon  them. 
Lady  Eveline  met  him  with  the  freedom  and  affection 
whic^  were  her  peculiar  characteristics,  and  he  thought,  as 
he  gazed  upon  her  beaming,  happy  face,  that  he  had  never 
seen  her  look  so  lovely.  Taking  her  delicate  hand  in  his, 
he  pressed  it  to  his  lips. 

"You  look  sad  this  morning,"  she  remarked,  as  they 
walked  together  toward  the  tasty  boudoir  in  which  she 
always  received  him,  and  where  together  they  had  spent 
BO  many  pleasant  mornings. 

"It  may  be  so,"  he  replied,  "for  the  prospect  of  throwing 


THE  BROKEN  RING  367 

a  shadow  over  a  life  which  should  be  all  sunshine  oppresses 
me." 

"  Charles,  my  brother,  my  betrothed,  you  have  come  to 
repeat  in  my  ear  the  words  of  an  indifferent  affection,  to 
which  I  have  before  listened.  Spare  yourself  the  pain  of 
doing  so;  I  cannot  listen  to  them.  Foolishly  I  thought 
that  the  hand  of  one  I  had  so  long  and  so  tenderly  loved 
would  make  me  happy,  but  it  is  not  so.  If  the  love  whidi 
yoa  gave  into  the  keeping  of  that  plebeian  object  some  years 
ago  is  still  in  her  possession,  go  and  claim  a  return  of  that 
which  she  is  able  to  give." 

"  Eveline,  you  called  me  brother ;  will  you  not  continue 
to  bestow  upon  me  that  endearing  name?" 

"  Did  I  ?  Then  know  it  shall  never  again  pollute  these 
lips.  Go  clasp  to  your  bosom  the  tawny  Indian  maid,  and 
bless  my  memory  for  the  speedy  and  cheerful  release  which 
I  have  given  you." 

"  Lady  Eveline,  you  never  loved  me,  or  you  could  not 
talk  so  composedly  of  our  final  separation.  It  grieves  me 
to  think  that  our  long-continued  friendship  should  thus 
end.  I  love  you  as  a  sister,  and  would  gladly  have  given 
you  a  dearer  love  had  it  been  mine  to  bestow.  Do  not 
spurn  me  so  coldly ;  I  have  not  deceived  you.  I  have  never 
asked  you  to  take  back  the  pledge  of  our  union,  yet  you 
bid  me  go,  as  one  unworthy  of  your  notice." 

"  Yet  your  acts  have  been  a  stereotyped  avowal  ever  since 
our  engagement  that  you  did  not  love  me.  I  knew  you 
would  some  day  audibly  repeat  it  if  I  permitted  you  to  do 
so,  and  I  have  schooled  my  heart  accordingly.  I  am  not  a 
child,  to  weep  for  the  loss  of  every  toy.  I  have  loved  you, 
but  the  knowledge  that  a  low,  vulgar  child  of  the  woods 
supersedes  myself  in  your  affections  destroys  my  love. 
Therefore  you  may  go.  Farewell !" 

She  turned  to  leave  him,  and  Edgarton,  with  a  fervent 
farewell,  hurried  from  the  house. 

"A  low,  vulgar  child  of  the  woods !"  he  repeated  to  him- 


368  THE  BROKEN  RING. 

eeli.  He  rode  slowly  homeward.  But  his  thoughts  wera 
busy,  and  he  wondered  how  one  who  had  loved  so  deeply 
as  he  had  been  led  to  believe  the  lady  did,  whom  he  had 
just  left  could  so  easily  exchange  that  devotion  for  bitter, 
burning  hatred. 

He  was  alone  in  the  library  when  a  timid  knock  was 
heard  upon  the  door,  and  little  Floy  came  bounding  in. 

"  So  you  are  to  return  to  London  to-day  ?"  he  remarked, 
taking  her  in  his  arms.  "  Did  you  come  to  say  good-bye?" 

"  Oh  no ;  we  are  not  going  till  to-morrow.  Aunt  Anna 
is  so  angry  about  something,  and  mamma  is  to  stay  and 
comfort  her,  I  believe,"  she  replied  artlessly. 

"What  makes  your  aunt  angry,  little  one?  I  think  you 
cannot  read  aright.  The  servants  no  doubt  have  perplexed 
her,  and  she  feels  disturbed,  not  angry.  That  is  a  vulgar 
word,  and  ladies  should  not  indulge  in  it." 

"Yes,  she  is  angry,"  persisted  the  little  lady;  "and  it's 
at  something  you  have  done,  too." 

"I?" 

"  Yes ;  a  servant  from  Pemberton  Castle  rode  over  here 
early  this  morning  with  a  note  from  Lady  Eveline  which 
made  Aunt  Anna  drive  me  out  of  the  room  as  soon  as  she 
noticed  me.  I  knew  she  was  angry.  But  you  won't  care;" 
and  she  put  her  little  arms  pleadingly  about  his  neck. 

"  Do  you  love  your  naughty  cousin  ?"  he  asked,  kissing 
her  cheek. 

"  You  are  not  naughty,  and  I  love  you  because  you  are 
good." 

"  Then  go  down  and  tell  Betty  to  let  you  help  her  make 
some  cake  for  me,  as  I  am  very  busy  this  morning ;  and 
after  dinner  Prince  shall  take  us  a  long  drive  down  to 
Castlebury  Park." 

This  was  sufficient  to  send  the  little  intruder  away  with  a 
merry  heart,  and  Edgarton  was  once  more  alone.  Well  did 
he  understand  the  cause  of  his  mother's  anger,  and  heartily 
did  he  dread  to  come  in  personal  conflict  with  it  But  it 


THE  BROKEN  EING.  369 

must  be  encountered.  He  had  not  long  to  wait,  for  Lady 
Anna,  full  of  the  indignation  which  she  could  not  suppress, 
sought  the  presence  of  her  son  to  demand  of  him  the  reason 
for  his  inexplicable  conduct. 

''For  the  best  of  reasons,"  was  his  prompt  reply.  "I  did 
not  wish  to  sacrifice  my  life  to  a  being  I  did  not  love,  and 
who,  as  I  am  now  fully  convinced,  was  only  prompted  in 
her  affection  by  a  vain  ambition  and  love  of  conquest." 

"  You  wrong  her  and  keep  back  the  principal  and  only 
truthful  reason  for  your  perfidy.  But  you  cannot  deceive 
me.  I  will  never  acknowledge  as  a  daughter  the  low 
plebeian  whom  you  propose  to  make  your  wife.  If  you 
dare  to  bring  her  to  this  house,  I  will  leave  it  and  return  to 
my  native  country  to  die,  that  I  may  be  buried  in  its  soil. 
Oh,  to  think  that  my  happiness  should  be  so  suddenly 
turned  to  mortification  and  disappointment!"  and  the 
proud  lady  sank  into  a  chair  and  buried  her  face  in  her 
hands. 

"  You  anticipate,  mother ;  I  shall  never  intrude  myself 
upon  your  presence  with  a  wife  who  does  not  come  by  your 
maternal  invitation ;  and  as  to  the  low  plebeian  to  whom 
you  have  alluded,  you  rriay  compose  yourself,  for  I  have 
very  little  doubt  that  if  your  honored  son  should  ask  for 
her  hand  he  would  be  refused.  I  have,  I  confess,  too  many 
of  our  family  foibles  about  superior  blood  and  affinity  to 
wed  one  of  low  and  vulgar  origin.  If  not,  I  should  have 
been  to-day  probably  one  of  the  happiest  men  alive." 

The  lady  raised  her  head  and  bestowed  a  look  of  ap- 
proval upon  her  son. 

"  Perhaps  your  fair  lady  was  too  sensitive,  and  met  you 
with  unwarrantable  indignation.  I  am  sure  you  do  not 
intend  to  sever  your  engagement." 

"  Yes,  mother,  I  am  free.  Last  evening  I  received  from 
her  hand  the  broken  ring  which  sealed  our  plighted  vows, 
and  never  again  can  the  fragments  be  cemented.  The 
winter  will  be  tedious  here,  as  I  long  ago  determined 


370  THE  BROKEN  EINQ. 

net  to  plunge  into  London  society  this  season,  and  while 
you  are  there  I  propose  seeking  pleasure  in  another  direc- 
tion." 

"You  are  not  proposing  to  leave  us?" 

"Yes,  and  not  to  return  until  the  unhappy  affair  of  my 
foolish  engagement  has  ceased  to  excite  your  anger  and 
indignation  toward  your  only  son,  who  was  at  one  time 
willing  to  sacrifice  his  dearest  hopes  to  further  your  hap- 
piness. On  this  subject  alone,  my  mother,  have  we  ever 
seriously  differed.  When  this  barrier  to  our  peace  is  re- 
moved, and  you  are  willing  to  welcome  me  home  again 
with  open  arms,  then  will  I  return  to  you." 

She  regarded  his  face  for  a  moment  with  mingled  sur- 
prise and  indignation,  then  replied : 

"  Think  not,  Charles  Edgarton,  to  deceive  me.  I  know 
the  object  of  your  visit  abroad.  You  think  to  woo  the 
unworthy  being  whom  you  cling  to  with  an  unnatural  love. 
This  is  why  you  leave  me — I  know  it  well — and  my  ex- 
tended welcome  to  you  must  also  embrace  your  wife." 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  mildly.  "  I  have  not  thought  to  de- 
ceive you,  only  to  comfort  you.  If  the  despised  protegee,  as 
you  are  pleased  to  term  the  beautiful  Flora,  will  be  mine, 
I  shall  marry  her,  and  you  will  yet  be  proud  to  call  her 
daughter." 

"Never!  no,  never!"  she  exclaimed,  and  left  the  room. 

Everything  was  now  arranged.  In  three  weeks  Edgarton 
would  again  leave  his  home  and  sail  to  a  distant  land,  filled 
with  many  emotions  and  half-fledged  hopes  which  he 
hardly  dared  to  think  might  yet  be  developed  into  blissful 
realizations. 


CHAPTER   XLIII. 
SMOOTH  SEAS. 

MRS.  LANE'S  dim  parlor  had  lost  its  dull,  sober,  som- 
bre appearance  since  the  return  of  Flora  Dupont  and 
her  father;  the  sounds  of  merry  laughter  and  cheerful  con- 
versation mingled  with  the  melody  of  song,  and  the  quick, 
gleeful  notes  of  the  piano  succeeded  the  low,  monotonous 
tread  and  the  sigh  of  desolation  which  had  so  often  faintly 
stirred  the  stillness  of  the,  till  then,  almost  unfrequented 
rooms. 

Upon  Flora's  departure,  Lura,  at  the  urgent  request  of 
Mrs.  Lane,  had  left  the  seminary  as  a  boarder,  and  taken 
up  her  abode  beneath  her  roof,  endeavoring  morning  and 
evening  to  fill  the  place,  so  far  as  in  her  lay,  which  had 
been  just  vacated  by  her  absent  friend. 

"Now  you  can  study  all  the  time,"  Flora  said  to  her 
upon  the  evening  of  her  return,  "  for  I  shall  claim  my  old 
position ;"  and  Mrs.  Lane's  smiling  face  told  plainly  that 
the  prospect  before  her  was  a  happy  one.  Not  that  her 
love  for  Lura  was  not  great,  but  a  more  earnest  feeling, 
which  had  been  earlier  kindled  into  fervor  for  the  beautiful 
Flora,  swayed  and  filled  her  heart. 

"  How  do  you  know  it  is  I  ?"  Flora  asked,  one  day,  as 
Mrs.  Lane  spoke  her  name  upon  her  entrance  into  the 
room ;  "  why  did  you  not  think  it  was  Lura  ?" 

"Because  your  hand  always  salutes  me  with  its  gentle 
touch.  Lura's  words  are  as  tender  and  soothing,  but  hei 
hand  never  presses  my  brow  or  lies  with  its  soft,  sympa- 
thizing fondness  upon  my  head." 

"Yet  she  does  love  and  sympathize  as  truly  as  myselfl" 

171 


372  SMOOTH  SEAS. 

"Yes;  but  how  are  the  blind  to  read  the  eye  or  the  ex- 
pression of  the  face,  however  much  they  might  speak  to 
the  heart,  while  the  ear  fails  to  perceive  in  the  daily  tones 
of  pity  in  which  they  are  addressed  those  sweet  notes  of 
true  love  for  which  the  imprisoned  soul  continually  pines? 
Indeed,  it  only  becomes  truly  sensitive  to  words  of  harsh- 
ness or  of  chilling  complaint.  Flora,  my  darling,  no  one 
understands  me  so  well  as  yourself;  none  can  so  well  open 
the  closed  avenues  to  my  heart,  and  let  in  the  glad  sun- 
ehine.  My  husband  has  grown  kinder,  and  even  attentive, 
fiince  I  have  endeavored  to  come  out  from  my  great  sorrow 
and  help  him  to  brush  away  the  clouds  that  brooded  over 
him.  But  he  knows  not  the  power  that  lies  hidden  in 
every  tiny  flower,  or  is  wafted  to  us  on  every  fragrant 
breeze  that  comes  and  nestles  in  our  flowing  locks-  when 
the  day  is  over,  or  looks  down  upon  us  in  the  soft  rays  of 
the  twinkling  stars  gleaming  from  their  ethereal  homes. 
All  these  seek  no  intercourse  with  the  great,  bustling,  tangi- 
ble world,  but  they  penetrate  our  external,  decaying  na- 
tures, communing  with  the  internal  organization  of  that 
life  which  animates  angelic  forms,  filling  the  spiritual  ex- 
istence with  adoration  for  the  glories  which  surround  them. 
To  nurture  a  healthy  existence,  the  blind  need  in  a  great 
degree  a  different  sustenance  from  the  calculated  loss  and 
gain  of  every-day  life ;  and  oh,  how  very  few  understand 
the  art  of  administering  it !  Too  often,  for  this  reason,  the 
mind  contracts  and  starves  in  its  prison-house,  while  the 
world  looks  on  and  calls  us  morbid  and  imbecile." 

"Not  so  bad  as  that,"  replied  Flora,  kissing  the  animated 
face.  "We  only  fail  to  understand  because  we  are  inex- 
perienced, but  we  do  not  impute  blame.  Oh  no!  God  for- 
bid that  I  should  censure  one  of  his  afflicted." 

"  Not  you !  How  lonely  I  shall  be  when  you  are  not  here 
to  surprise  me  with  the  last  new  book,  or  to  wheel  my  chair 
unsolicited  to  the  open  window,  where  the  cool  breeze  can 
fan  my  brow,  and  talk  to  me  of  the  glorious  sunset  before 


SMOOTH  SEAS.  373 

me,  while  for  the  time  I  forget  that  my  eyes  are  not  behold- 
ing it,  as  the  picture  glows  and  changes  before  my  mental 
vision !  How  I  shall  miss  from  my  hand  the  fresh  bouquet, 
with  its  alluring  dewdrops  still  glistening  among  its  golden 
petals !  Oh  yes ;  I  shall  indeed  miss  you,  for  they  will  tell 
me  these  can  do  me  no  good,  and  that  they  may  perhaps 
even  distress  me,  because  my  natural  vision  cannot  behold 
them.  Yet  they  think  they  supply  my  wants  when  they 
feed  and  clothe  my  body  bountifully  and  luxuriously. 
This  is  good,  so  far  as  it  goes.  I  once  heard  of  a  bird 
which  pined  and  died  because  it  was  removed  from  a 
golden  cage  to  another  composed  of  common  steel  bars. 
We  like  to  have  our  prison-house  adorned,  but  how  much 
more  keenly  do  we  appreciate  the  kindness  of  those  who 
cheer  the  lonely,  dreary  occupant !" 

"You  are  sad  to-day,  my  dear  friend,"  said  Flora,  the 
tears  trembling  in  her  large  dark  eyes.  "  God  knows  what 
we  all  need,  and  in  due  time  we  shall  receive  our  heart's 
desire ;  shall  we  not  ?" 

"  Oh  yes ;  but  my  struggling  faith  cannot  perceive  any- 
where in  the  clouded  future  another  Flora  to  scatter  sun- 
beams through  the  darkness  which  will  surround  me." 

"Then  look  upward.  Is  there  not  an  angel  form  that 
will  hover  over  you,  whose  effulgent  robes  shall  reflect  their 
tranquil  brightness  through  the  shut  windows  of  your  im- 
prisoned soul,  filling  your  maternal  heart  with  the  blissful 
foretaste  of  a  happy  reunion  and  a  glorious  freedom,  when 
the  winged  soul  shall  soar  in  its  natural  element  of  purity 
and  repose  ?" 

"  Oh  yes ;  I  believe  it.  God  will  provide.  I  thank  you. 
Flora,  one  of  my  heaviest  losses  when  you  are  gone  will 
be  the  deprivation  of  those  sweet  corrections  which  you 
have  so  often,  to  my  lasting  benefit,  administered.  Ah! 
it  will  be  hard  work  to  overcome  my  proud,  faithless 
spirit  alone,  and  with  conflicting  circumstances  all  around 
me." 

32 


374  SMOOTH  SEAS. 

The  door  opened  here,  and  a  servant  announced  Uncle 
Billy  as  waiting  in  the  parlor  to  see  Miss  Flora. 

"  Dear,  good  Uncle  Billy !"  she  exclaimed,  kissing  again 
the  flushed  cheek  of  her  much-loved  friend ;  "  I  must  go 
to  see  him." 

"  This  is  kind  in  you,"  she  said,  entering  the  parlor  and 
extending  both  of  her  hands.  "  I  might  have  known  that 
you  never  would  forget  your  old  friends." 

The  kind-hearted  old  man  held  the  delicate  little  hands 
tightly  in  his  own  for  a  moment,  while  he  peered  beneath 
his  broad,  shaggy  eyebrows  down  into  the  sparkling  faco 
before  him. 

"  Well,  now  I"  he  exclaimed,  at  last;  "  I  don't  see  as  you 
look  any  more  stuck  up  than  you  did  when  you  used  to  go 
round  sweeping  and  singing  in  the  old  brown  house  over 
yonder.  And  yet  they  tell  me  you  have  grown  to  be  a 
mighty  fine  lady  since  I  saw  you  last  summer." 

"  I  have  the  same  heart  that  I  had  when  I  was  a  poor 
Indian  girl.  There  is  no  change,  I  can  assure  you,  unless 
it  be  that  I  love  those  dear  friends  whom  I  then  loved  with 
redoubled  fervor.  Isn't  it  so,  my  dear  father  ?"  she  asked, 
as  she  saw  him  approaching.  "  This  is  Uncle  Billy,  of  whom 
you  have  heard  me  speak,  and  he  seems  to  think  it  strange 
that  I  should  continue  to  love  him,  now  that  I  am  no  longer 
an  Indian  girl." 

She  laughed  merrily,  and  Mr.  Dupont,  advancing,  clasped 
the  extended  hand  of  the  old  sailor  with  unmistakable 
warmth. 

"  Not  at  all  strange,"  said  her  father.  "  A  true  heart  does 
not  put  its  old  affections  aside  at  every  sprinkling  of  pros- 
perity. She  is  no  leech,  that  a  slight  sprinkling  of  salt  can 
force  to  disgorge  all  that  it  once  absorbed  with  eager  avidity. 
No,  no!  Mv  daughter  will  ever  remember  you  with  the 
most  kindly  affection,  as  will  also  her  father,  for  the  kind- 
ness shown  by  you  to  her  in  her  loneliness." 

"  Well,  welii"  exclaimed  Uncle  Billy,  drawing  his  shaggy 


SMOOTH  SEAS.  37^ 

eyebrows  down  over  the  little  gray  eyes,  which  looked  un- 
usually moist,  as  they  disappeared,  "I  ain't  nothing  and 
haven't  done  nothing  to  deserve  anybody's  love ;  and  yet 
I  did  want  to  see  our  girls  once  more  before  the  Lady  Ann 
took  up  her  winter  quarters  again  in  New  York  Harbor 
You  see,  I  don't  like  to  stay  at  home  since  they  all  left  me, 
so  I  sold  the  old  house,  and  live  with  a  shipmate  down 
there." 

Miss  Goodale  was  here  announced.  With  an  exclamation 
of  pleasure,  Flora  darted  forward  to  welcome  her  old  friend, 
but  stopped  short  in  surprise,  as  she  saw  Miss  Kate,  the 
elder  of  the  two  sisters,  standing  before  her.  She  was  very 
richly  dressed,  and  a  smile  of  friendly  recognition  was  upon 
her  pretty  face. 

"  Miss  Goodale,  I  believe  ?"  said  Flora,  in  friendly  greet- 
ing. "  We  have  met  before,  but  not  as  acquaintances,"  she 
continued,  leading  her  to  a  seat. 

Flora  Dupont  was  not  saintly  in  her  nature,  and  she 
looked  upon  the  simpering,  affected  lady  with  a  feeling 
very  much  akin  to  disgust.  If  she  remembered  all  the 
little  acts  of  kindness  and  affection  that  had  been  mani- 
fested toward  her  in  those  chilling  days  of  dependence  and 
neglect,  she  found  it  equally  impossible  to  forget  the  thrust* 
of  scorn  and  contempt  which  had  so  often  pierced  her  sensi- 
tive heart  and  left  it  bleeding  and  quivering,  to  be  healed 
by  the  hand  of  time  alone. 

"  Well,  Miss  Flora,  I  expect  you  have  seen  me  as  long  as 
you  want  to,"  said  Uncle  Billy,  rising  to  depart.  "  But  I 
want  you  to  take  that  basket  of  peaches ;  they  are  the  last 
of  the  season,  and  I  expect  they  may  be  the  last  I  can  ever 
bring  you." 

This  was  too  much  for  the  old  man,  and  the  big  tears 
that  had  been  gathering  in  those  deep-set  eyes  rolled  down 
his  weatherbeaten  cheeks. 

"  No,  no  I"  said  Flora,  going  toward  him ;  "  I  cannot  spare 
you  yet  Poor  Lura  I  You  would  not  go  away  without  see 


376  SMOOTH  SEAS. 

ing  her?  I  am  sure  she  will  want  to  tell  you  something, 
and  perhaps  send  something  by  you  to  her  brother." 

Thus  importuned,  he  permitted  her  to  lead  him  to  the 
other  extremity  of  the  spacious  room,  where  he  was  soon 
rejoined  by  Mr.  Dupont,  who  had  just  then  returned  to  the 
parlor,  and  in  a  short  time  the  two  were  chatting  pleas- 
antly together. 

Flora  could  not  but  perceive  that  somewhat  of  the  old, 
well-remembered  looks  had  returned  to  her  lady  visitor's 
face,  as  she  again  seated  herself  by  her  side;  and  with  a 
smile,  she  answered  the  look  by  saying, 

"  That  is  one  of  my  dear  Old  friends  whose  love  has  been 
more  precious  to  me  than  riches,  because  it  was  bestowed 
when  the  heart  knew  how  to  appreciate  the  gift  and  feel  its 
inestimable  worth.  Oh,  if  we  could  only  see  the  golden 
chalice  in  every  lonely  heart  in  which  it  treasures  each 
kindly  word  and  gentle  act,  that  they  may  be  there  pre- 
served through  all  future  years,  such  words  and  acts  would 
not  be  so  sparingly  given  or  so  grudgingly  bestowed." 

She  did  not  intend  to  utter  all  this ;  but  carried  along  by 
her  impulsive  heart,  she  had  breathed  its  language  thought- 
lessly, and  she  now  raised  her  eyes  with  a  regretful  look, 
fearing  that  her  visitor  might  have  thought  that  her  words 
were  intentionally  personal,  which  would  have  been  ex- 
tremely unladylike,  under  the  circumstances.  She  was  mis- 
taken, however,  or  the  lady  of  the  world  had  sufficient  com- 
mand over  her  expressionless  features  to  avoid  showing  any 
disturbed  feelings,  since  she  chatted  on  as  glibly  as  before. 
It  would  be  no  slight  honor,  by  way  of  requital  for  her 
present  pains,  to  be  a  friend  of  the  beautiful  heiress  during 
the  coming  season  of  pleasure-giving  and  pleasure-taking ; 
and  Kate  Goodale  had  consequently  determined,  notwith- 
standing her  sister's  jeering  admonition,  to  omit  no  trouble 
or  care  that  she  might  elevate  herself  to  that  enviable  posi- 
tion. It  was,  therefore,  with  considerable  annoyance  that 
•he  was  conscious  that  the  allotted  time  for  "a  genteel  call" 


SMOOTH  SEAS.  377 

liad  passed  while  the  charming  heiress  still  looked  as  un- 
appreciating  at  these  great  honors  bestowed  upon  her  by 
her  visit  as  when  she  first  entered.  She  arose,  however, 
with  becoming  dignity  and  grace;  and  with  a  slight  pi  es- 
eure  of  the  hand  and  a  warm  adieu,  she  left  the  house. 

Many  of  her  former  schoolmates  who  had  passed  her 
coldly  in  the  hall  or  gazed  from  the  opposite  side  of  the 
recitation-room  at  her  faded  dress  with  a  sneering  look 
had  found  since  her  return  to  T many  fond  remem- 
brances in  their  school-day  life,  which  they  delighted  to 
talk  over  with  Miss  Dupont,  in  Mrs.  Lane's  elegant  parlor, 
and  Flora,  like  a  true  Christian,  had  endeavored  to  draw  a 
curtain  between  the  present  and  the  past,  and  to  smile  and 
be  as  happy  as  though  the  past  had  not  been.  But  who 
will  not  excuse  and  forgive  the  little  rustling  breeze  of 
concealed  indignation  which  would  at  times  come  and  blow 
the  thin  folds  aside  for  human  nature  to  peep  through  ? 

The  evenings  were  delightful.  There  was  no  sad  in- 
trusion there,  as  the  family  all  gathered  together — not  in 
the  little  upper  chamber,  where  one  year  ago  the  circle 
nightly  convened,  but  in  the  parlor,  where  there  could  be 
music  and  little  t£te-a-t£tes  without  annoying  auditors.  Mrs. 
Lane,  with  her  quiet,  happy  face  and  large,  full,  sightless 
eyes,  never  failed  to  be  one  of  the  party.  Mr.  Lane,  too, 
had  thrown  aside  somewhat  of  his  moroseness  and  acidity, 
and  would  sit  with  Mr.  Dupont,  quietly  talking  over  his 
failing  business  and  his  incapabilities  until  they  vanished 
from  before  his  eyes  and  he  became  again,  in  a  measure, 
the  popular  merchant  of  former  days.  Harry,  poor  fellow ! 
had  thrown  a  pyramid  of  fragrant  flowers  upon  his  former 
love,  and  had  left  it  there  buried  to  silent  repose,  while  he 
vainly  tried,  by  every  kind  attention  and  gallant  act,  to 
win  to  his  bereaved  heart  a  new  object  for  its  especial  ado- 
ration. 

Flora,  saw  and  understood  all,  yet  endeavored  in  as 
kindly  a  manner  as  possible  to  tell  him  how  highly  she 


378  SMOOTH  SEAS. 

regarded  him  as  the  lover  of  her  dear  Kitty,  and  that  she 
should  ever  remember  him  as  a  friend  to  be  cherished  and 
admired  for  her  sweet  sake. 

"  It  is  well,"  he  said,  one  evening,  as  she  told  this.  "  I 
have  no  right  to  worship  at  another's  shrine.  Yet  life  is 
cold  and  dreary  when  our  love  has  no  warmer  resting-place 
than  the  damp,  chill  grave." 

Flora  pitied  him.  Her  looks  must  have  manifested  her 
feelings,  for  he  caught  her  hand  and  pressed  it  fervently  to 
his  lips. 

Upon  one  of  these  evenings,  while  all  was  bright  and 
cheerful  within,  the  winds  outside  were  sighing  aud  sob- 
bing for  entrance  at  the  closed  casements,  or  whispering  sad, 
low  prophecies  through  the  leafless  trees,  or  rustling  and 
piling  up  their  faded  garments  upon  the  ground  at  their 
feet,  while  the  restless  clouds  darted  hither  and  thither 
among  the  stars,  hiding  for  a  time  their  faint  glimmerings 
from  the  street  pedestrian,  who  drew  his  cloak  more  closely 
about  him  and  bent  his  head  to  the  threatening  storm,  as 
he  hurried  to  his  home.  All  prophesied  snow  before  many 
hours,  and  not  a  few  smiled  a  cheerful  welcome  to  the  new 
visitor,  whose  coming  had  been  unusually  late,  for  winter 
looks  cheerless  and  uninviting  without  his  glittering  man- 
tle and  long  white  beard. 

It  was  upon  such  a  night  that  Flora  sat  at  the  piano 
einging  her  sweetest  notes,  to  the  delight  of  her  loving 
father,  who  stood  by  her  side,  and  of  Mrs.  Lane,  who  sat 
near  with  her  easy-chair  turned  from  the  brilliant  light 
near  which  Lura  sat  with  her  books  open  before  her,  while 
Harry  and  Mr.  Lane  looked  happily  on,  that  a  servant 
opened  the  door,  and  approaching,  handed  Flora  a  card. 
She  arose,  as  her  eye  fell  upon  the  name,  and  a  sudden 
pallor  overspread  her  features,  which  did  not  escape  the 
watchful  eye  of  her  father. 

"Flora,"  he  said,  mildly,  "will  you  let  me  see  that 
card?" 


SMOOTH  SEAS.  379 

"  Oh  yes.  Charles  Edgarton  is  at  the  City  Hotel,  and  re- 
quests the  privilege  of  calling  to-morrow  at  nine  o'clock." 

Arthur  Dupont  did  not  turn  his  steady  gaze  for  one 
moment  from  the  face  of  his  daughter,  as  she  said  this, 
and  a  deep  sigh  heaved  his  bosom,  as  he  asked, 

"  Will  you  grant  this  request,  darling  ?" 

"  He  has  been  a  very  dear  friend." 

"  While  you  plead  with  those  eloquent  eyes,  my  jewel,  A 
can  never  touch  a  discordant  note  in  your  heart.  Do  as  it 
prompts  you." 

She  cast  a  look  of  sweet  devotion  upon  the  speaker,  then, 
turning  to  the  table,  took  from  the  case  a  card,  and  wrote 
as  follows:  "Flora  Dupont  is  happy  at  all  times  to  see  her 
friends ;"  and  enclosing  it  in  an  envelope,  she  handed  it  to 
the  servant  waiting  in  the  hall. 

The  sudden  appearance  of  Sir  Charles,  particularly  at 
this  season  of  the  year,  gave  rise  to  much  wonder  and 
conjecture.  Lura's  steady  gaze  was  fixed  meanwhile  upon 
the  page  before  her,  while  her  eyes  sparkled  and  danced 
with  an  unwonted  brilliancy  and  her  cheeks  glowed  from 
suppressed  joy.  She  knew  well  the  love  which  existed 
between  those  two  hearts,  and  none  knew  better  than  her- 
self who  had  drawn  the  magic  cord  which  she  was  sure 
would  at  last  unite  them. 

"  You  are  very  happy  at  the  prospect  of  meeting  your 
cousin,"  said  Flora,  bending  over  her  and  kissing  her 
fl  ushed  cheek.  "  I  never  saw  you  look  so  pretty  and  ani- 
mated." 

"  Other  eyes  are  brilliant  and  other  cheeks  rosy  besides 
mine,  and  another  little  heart  throbs  with  a  concealed  joy, 
if  I  am  not  greatly  mistaken,"  was  the  laughing  reply. 
"  But  I  ought  to  be  very  angry.  Why  did  he  not  send  his 
card  to  me,  who  have  some  claim  upon  his  heart's  affec- 
tion? or  why  did  he  not  waive  all  ceremony  and  rush 
to  my.  embrace?  Instead  of  this,  he. passes  by  the  little^ 


380  SMOOTH  SEAS. 

diminutive  'Fury'  of  other  days  for  the  beautiful  Flora 
Dupont,  the  idol  of  all  eyes.  Heigho !" 

The  bitterness  which  a  few  months  before  would  have 
rendered  these  words  obnoxious  was  not  there  now,  for  her 
heart  had  been  cleansed  by  its  own  happiness,  and  her  own 
great  joy  had  sweetened  the  acid  fountain. 

The  next  morning  a  blanket  of  snow  had  been  thrown 
over  Nature's  faded  form,  and  the  chilling  frost  had  pene- 
trated her  pulseless  bosom  and  stiffened  her  inactive 
nerves,  but  no  icy  coldness  had  settled  upon  the  heart  of 
Flora,  as  the  great  clock  upon  the  tower  of  St.  John's  told 
the  hour  of  nine  and  she  knew  that  Edgarton  was  near 
her. 

How  should  she  meet  him  ?  Was  he  betrothed,  perhaps 
even  then  wedded,  to  another?  Yet  he  had  desired  to  see 
her,  and  the  twofold  sadness  that  had  overshadowed  her 
heart  at  their  last  meeting  was  cleared  away,  and  she 
could  see  him  and  thank  him  for  all  his  former  kindness, 
and  then  say  "Farewell,"  feeling  that  they  were  friends, 
because  they  were  equals. 

The  door  opened,  then  as  suddenly  closed ;  and  stopping 
short  in  her  needlework,  she  turned,  to  find  herself  alone 
in  the  presence  of  her  expected  visitor.  For  a  moment 
neither  spoke ;  but  their  eyes  met,  and  the  secret  of  each 
heart  was  disclosed  in  the  mutually  earnest,  wistful  gaze. 

Edgarton  did  not  approach  her,  but  seating  himself  upon 
a  sofa,  asked  if  she  would  sit  beside  him : 

"  I  will  not  yield  to  the  pleadings  of  my  yearning  heart — 
no,  not  even  to  take  that  extended  hand  in  mine  own — until 
I  have  told  you  all.  From  our  first  acquaintance  on  that 
lonely  distant  isle  I  have  loved  you  more  devotedly  than 
my  own  heart  fully  comprehended.  It  was  a  secret,  yet.  I 
confess,  firm,  resolution  of  mine  to  educate  and  then  win 
you  to  myself.  Our  first  parting,  however,  wrung  from  my 
heart  an  avowal,  and  I  knew  that  in  your  pure  affection  my 
little  forgetrme-not  was  cherished  with  a  jealous  care.  Thii 


SMOOTH  SEAS.  381 

was  bliss  to  me,  and  for  a  long  time  the  consciousness  of  it 
was  sufficiently  powerful  to  turn  me  from  every  temptation 
to  tear  it  from  its  resting-place  or  to  permit  it  to  wither  and 
die  from  cold  neglect.  I  wrote  you  often,  but  other  hands 
than  yours  received  the  letters.  I  told  you  my  love,  but 
other  eyes  gloated  over  my  repeated  avowals.  Then  came 
s<  cret  missives  to  my  distant  home,  telling  of  your  proffered 
affection  for  one  I  knew  you  never  loved,  of  follies,  of  crimes, 
of  which  rny  heart  assured  me  you  were  incapable.  They 
reached  me  only  through  another,  and  that  channel  was 
poisoned  by  these  false  reports.  Months  afterward  I  learned 
that  the  secret  of  your  supposed  lineage  was  also  known  to 
my  mother.  After  leaving  the  country  to  drown  my  chagrin, 
and  to  free  myself  from  the  importunities  of  my  mother  to 
carry  out  her  long-cherished  plan  of  connecting  our  waver- 
ing fortunes  with  those  of  Pemberton  Castle,  I  returned, 
having  first  seen  you  and  learned  that  you  were  soon  to 
wed  another,  and  offered  my  hand  to 'Lady  Eveline,  assur- 
ing her  at  the  same  time  that  my  first  and  purest  love  was 
in  the  possession  of  another. 

"  Three  months  ago  I  heard  of  your  change  of  fortune, 
and  that  the  one  to  whom  your  vows  were  plighted  had 
proven  to  be  your  own  uncle.  This  aroused  my  love, 
which  was  only  chained,  not  subdued,  and  I  hastened  to 
my  betrothed  to  tell  her  all,  but  she  would  not  hear,  and 
in  a  moment  of  anger  bade  me  go.  I  was  free,  and  here 
I  am  before  you — not  as  a  suppliant  for  that  love  which 
1  have  forfeited,  but  to  plead  for  that  forgiveness  for  which 
my  heart  is  pining.  I  thought  that  you  were  an  Indian 
girl,  and  for  this  reason  I  sought  to  crush  the  love  which 
your  image  had  created,  and  to  fill  the  second  place  with 
an  object  for  which  I  had  but  little  affection.  You  have 
been  true,  I  have  been  false,  to  our  first  pledge  of  love. 
Can  you  forgive?" 

Flora  had  been  listening  with  downcast  eyes,  but  she 
raised  them  now,  and  the  pleading  look  which  met  hers 


382  SMOOTH  SEAS. 

melted  her  heart ;  and  with  an  impulsive  movement,  she 
extended  her  arms  and  was  clasped  in  one  long,  fervent 
embrace  to  the  throbbing  heart  of  him  whom  she  had  so 
long  adored. 

"  Forgiven  and  loved ;  am  I,  fairy  ?" 

"  Forgiven,  and  the  fallen  idol  reinstated,"  she  murmured. 
*I  never  blamed  you,"  she  said,  a  few  moments  after; 
'therefore  there  was  nothing  for  me  to  pardon.  Had  I 
known  myself  to  be  what  I  really  was,  I  could  never  have 
given  myself  to  the  bold  and  handsome  Wehegan." 

"  You  never  loved  him,  fairy  ?" 

"  No ;  it  was  you  whom  I  loved,  and  to  make  you  happy 
by  saving  your  friend  I  made  that  terrible  promise  the 
thought  of  which  even  now  makes  me  shudder." 

Arthur  Dupont  yielded  a  reluctant  consent  to  the  union 
of  his  daughter  with  the  noble  young  Englishman. 

A  delightful  winter  was  before  the  newly  betrothed ;  and 
according  to  promise*  a  few  days  before  Christmas  Mr.  Fenn 
returned  to  join  the  happy  circle.  Lura's  educational  toil 
ended  with  the  holidays,  and  the  ensuing  two  or  three  weeks 
were  to  be  spent  by  the  whole  party  in  New  York.  A  visit 
to  her  unhappy  brother,  who  was  slowly  but  surely  recover- 
ing, was  not,  be  it  confessed,  the  most  engrossing  object  upon 
which  her  thoughts  rested  prior  to  the  expected  trip.  A 
trousseau,  elegant  as  befitted  one  in  the  station  she  expected 
to  fill,  was  to  be  selected,  together  with  the  necessary  ward- 
robe for  a  journey  of  many  months ;  for  when  the  joyous 
spring  should  come  again  to  deck  reanimating  Nature  with 
her  early  gems,  she  was  to  become  the  wife  of  Lewis  Fenn, 
and  the  happy  pair,  accompanied  by  Arthur  Dupont  and 
his  daughter,  would  set  out  on  a  tour  through  Europe. 

Edgarton  returned  home  a  few  weeks  in  advance,  with 
the  promise  of  joining  the  party  immediately  upon  their 
arrival  in  London.  Lady  Anna  received  her  son  with  open 
arms  when  she  learned  from  his  lips  that  he  had  now  no 
plebeian  bride,  and  Lady  Eveline  was  not  mentioned. 


CHAPTER   XLIV. 
CURRENTS  AND  COUNTER  CURRENTS.   ' 

M  T   SUPPOSE  you  saw  your  Indian  proteg&e?"  carelessly 

J.  inquired  Lady  Anna  while  conversing  with  her  son  a 
few  days  after  his  return.  "  Ycu  have  not  spoken  to  me 
about  her,  but  you  see  I  am  somewhat  interested,  never- 
theless." 

"  I  did  not  suppose  you  cared  to  hear  me  talk  about  her. 
Yes,  I  saw  her." 

"  Her  school-days  being  over,  I  trust  you  made  provision 
for  her  speedy  return  to  her  people?  This  certainly  was 
due  her,  as  you  were  the  sole  cause  of  her  leaving  them." 

The  color  deepened  a  little  upon  the  cheek  and  brow  of 
the  young  man ;  and  had  the  questioner  raised  her  eyes  for 
a  moment  from  the  needlework  which  she  was  holding  in 
her  hands,  she  might  have  noticed  an  untfsual  brightness 
in  the  orbs  opposite,  ordinarily  calm,  that  were  fixed  so 
intently  upon  her  placid  features,  and  a  strange  significant 
smile  playing  about  his  handsome  mouth.  But  she  did  not, 
and  after  a  moment's  pause  he  answered,  as  quietly  as  he 
had  been  questioned : 

"I  had  not  that  privilege,  dear  mother.  Another  had 
preceded  me,  and  she  has  returned  wiih  her  heart  full  of 
gladness  to  her  people — to  those  who  will  cherish  and 
love  her." 

The  mother  started,  and  a  flash  of  pleasurable  surprise 
shot  athwart  her  face  and  neck. 

"This  is  good  news  indeed,  my  son,  for  I  feared  much 
that  your  impulsive  nature  might  influence  her  in  taking  a 

MS 


384          CURRENTS  AND  COUNTER  CURRENTS. 

wrong  step  in  life— I  mean  drawing  her  aside  from  the  only 
path  in  which  she  can  ever  become  useful  and  happy.  Yes, 
Charles,  happy,  for  a  young  girl,  beautiful  and  fascinating 
though  she  may  be,  who  has  in  her  veins  the  dark  blood  of 
a  despised  people,  must  ever  be  an  outcast  from  polished 
society  and  a  stranger  among  us,  while  our  deep-rooted 
prejudice  against  inferiorities  of  blood  and  affinity  are 
permitted  to  survive." 

The  speaker's  voice  had  become  modulated  to  a  tone  o< 
soothing  calmness  quite  foreign  to  her  Italian  nature,  whik 
the  light  brightened  and  glowed  in  the  blue  eyes  opposite 
and  a  smile  danced  in  nervous  glee  around  the  lips  of  the 
listener.  Charles  Edgarton,  like  his  fair  betrothed,  was  not 
perfect,  and  an  anticipated  blissful  triumph  filled  his  heart, 
all  human  nature  as  it  was,  with  a  keen  relish  for  certain 
slow  but  sure  developments. 

"  Now  that  this  silly  affair  is  well  over,"  continued  the 
lady,  after  a  prolonged  silence,  which  she  had  vainly  hoped 
would  be  broken  by  her  son,  "why  not  endeavor  to  win 
back  Lady  Eveline  ?  I  feel  quite  sure  she  would  be  quite 
happy  to  receive  you,  and  no  doubt  is  as  fully  con- 
vinced of  the  folly  attending  her  girlish  freak  of  jealous 
pettishness  as  yourself.  In  fact,  she  has  often  told  me  as 
much ;  and  at  one  time,  while  mourning  your  absence — " 

"  Pardon  me,  dear  mother,  but  I  feel  that  I  have  no  right 
to  listen  to  a  part  of  a  private  t&te-ci-t&te  with  one  who  can 
never  be  aught  else  to  me  than  what  she  now  is,  unless  it 
be  a  little  dearer  friend,  for  she  is  angry  with  me  now,  and 
thinks  me  unjust  and  selfish,  while  I  can  array  no  such 
manifestations  of  cruelty  before  the  tribunal  of  conscience. 
No,  mother;  let  me  beg  of  you  to  become  perfectly  easy 
upon  this  one  point.  Much  as  I  should  rejoice  to  pleaso 
and  gratify  my  only  parent,  I  will  not  humble  myself  be- 
fore an  object  for  whom  I  have  no  love,  and  who  can  never 
bestow  upon  my  passing  life  more  than  a  stinted  affection. 
Do  not  plead  her  cause,  dear  mother,"  he  continued,  seeing 


CURRENTS  AND  COUNTER  CURRENTS.          385 

she  was  about  to  speak.  "At  one  time  she  might  have 
believed  that  the  tie  which  bound  us  was  that  pure  devo- 
tion which  often  links  young  hearts  together ;  but  when  its 
strength  was  tested,  it  was  found  too  brittle,  and  a  sudden 
jar  snapped  it  asunder.  It  was  education  that  united 
those  spurious  links,  and  no  power  of  mine  shall  ever 
reconnect  the  severed  chain."  The  speaker  arose,  as  he 
finished  these  words,  and  walking  toward  the  door,  said, 
carelessly,  "  I  think  I  will  ride  over  to  town  to-morrow,  and 
spend  a  few  days.  Little  Floy,  I  am  sure,  is  anxious  to  see 
me,"  and  then  left  the  room. 

The  truth  is,  a  grand  surprise  had  been  maturing  in  his 
fruitful  brain  for  many  weeks,  and  it  was  full  time  that  he 
was  acting  upon  it.  Besides,  there  must  be  letters  awaiting 
him;  and  Lady  Anna  was  too  much  overcome  with  sur- 
prise and  disappointment  to  urge  his  stay. 

Nor  was  he  mistaken  in  his  expectations.  "In  three 
weeks,"  so  ran  the  welcome  missive,  "  the  little  party,  con- 
sisting of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Fenn,  Mr.  Dupont  and  his  daugh- 
ter, with  Nenie,  her  French  dressing-maid,  will  arrive  in 
Liverpool  by  the  Europa"  and  the  pleasing  anticipation 
awoke  within  the  breast  of  the  reader  new  and  strange 
emotions.  Not  that  he  doubted  the  sequel  of  his  proud 
mother's  antipathy  toward  one  whom  she  had  never  seen, 
but  of  whom  she  had  heard  so  much,  but  how  should  she 
meet  her?  How  should  he  first  present  his  beautiful  be- 
trothed, and  suppress  the  unmanly  triumph  which  he  knew 
would  arise  in  his  heart,  and  which,  be  it  confessed,  he  had 
no  permanent  desire  to  exclude  from  his  future  conquest  ? 
There  was  one,  and  only  one,  in  whom  he  could  implicitly 
confide,  and  from  whom  he  could  expect  to  receive  salutary 
advice  and  assistance. 

This  was  no  newly-devised  scheme;  and  when  he  had 
seated  himself  in  his  carriage,  with  the  command  to  drive 
to  Burleigh  House,  he  settled  himself  back  upon  the  Boft 
cushions  with  the  air  of  one  whose  greatest  ambition  in  life 

33 


386  CURRENTS  AND   COUNTER   CURRENTS. 

had  been  just  attained,  and  to  whom  all  that  now  remained 
was  but  to  talk,  eat  and  enjoy  the  fruits  of  a  well-earned 
success. 

It  was  a  fine  old  mansion  before  which  the  carriage 
stopped ;  and  Edgarton,  alighting,  informed  the  driver  he 
could  return  to  the  hall,  while  he  sauntered  leisurely  up 
through  tha  long  avenue  leading  to  the  house  beneath 
froshly-budding  trees  and  amid  the  perfume  of  early  spring 
flowers. 

The  old  porter  touched  his  hat  respectfully,  as  the  young 
man  bowed,  smiled,  and  then  moved  slowly  on  to  the  inner 
court,  where  old  Nero  with  a  fierce  growl  arose  from  his 
noon-day  nap,  then  came  forward  with  a  friendly  recog- 
nition for  one  who  had  so  often  caressed  him,  and  on  re- 
ceiving his  salutation  followed  his  friend  with  a  satisfied 
look  in  his  large  dreamy  eyes  to  the  open  door  where  Roger 
Burleigh  stood  ready  to  receive  his  visitor. 

Why  such  a  kind,  noble,  good-natured,  wealthy  and  in- 
telligent person  as  the  proprietor  of  Burleigh  House  had 
never  become  a  baron  or  a  peer  was  past  the  comprehension 
of  many  of  his  friends.  Yet  those  who  knew  him  better 
declared  that  he  was  too  indolent  to  make  the  necessary 
exertion  to  take  a  single  step  in  advance  of  his  present 
position,  which,  therefore,  always  remained  the  same,  while 
he  declared  an  undisputed  fact  when  he  asserted  that  he 
was  too  fond  of  his  comfort  and  ease  to  walk  deliberately 
into  a  lion's  den ;  but  should  he  ever  be  so  unlucky  as  to 
be  thrust  there,  he  would  do  his  best  to  fight  his  way  out 
as  soon  as  possible.  And  as  he  stood  with  both  hands  ex- 
tended to  receive  his  nephew,  his  large  face  expressing  the 
intense  joy  that  was  in  his  heart,  none  could  have  doubted 
his  entire  indifference  to  all  titled  names,  or  the  sincerity 
of  his  expressed  satisfaction  that  Roger  Burleigh  had  been 
left  to  enjoy  himself  in  his  own  way. 

"Well,  now,  this  is  kind  in  you,"  he  exclaimed;  "I  was 
not  expecting  you  for  a  week  yet.  Why,  how  well  you  are 


CURRENTS  AND  COUNTER  CURRENTS.         387 

looking !  That  last  voyage  was  the  thing  for  you,  after  all ; 
and  so  lately  crossed  in  love,  too,  my  boy !  Ha,  ha,  ha  I 
Well,  well,  come  in;  you  will  find  the  ladies  in  the  par- 
lor. I  was  just  going  out  to  see  my  new  horse.  A  capital 
fellow,  Charles — the  finest  that  money  could  buy.  You 
know  that  is  my  weakness.  Ha,  ha,  ha  1  Will  you  come 
and  see  him  ?" 

Edgarton  was  about  to  follow  his  uncle,  when  little  Floy 
came  jumping  and  screaming  along  the  passage  upon  dis- 
covering him,  and  in  a  moment  more  had  bounded  into 
his  open  arms,  and  was  covering  his  face  with  kisses. 

"  Dear,  dear  cousin !"  she  softly  whispered,  as  he  placed 
her  again  upon  the  floor.  "  I  guess  mamma  and  my  sisters 
are  angry — dreadfully  angry — with  you,  because  you  didn't 
do  or  did  do  something.  I  don't  know  exactly  which  it  is, 
but  I  heard  mamma  say  this  morning  that  if  you  married 
that  hateful  girl  you  should  never  come  here,  and  she 
would  never  speak  to  you.  But  you  won't  care,  will  you  ? 
I  wish  I  were  big ;  then  I  would  marry  you,  and  everybody 
wouldn't  be  getting  angry  with  you — that  I  would !" 

"  What  if  I  wouldn't  marry  you,  little  bird  ?  Then  what? 
You  see  everybody  thinks  that  I  am  stubborn  and  anxious 
to  do  what  I  please.  Perhaps  I  wouldn't  love  you." 

"  But  you  do,  cousin.  Don't  you  love  me  ?"  and  the  face 
of  the  little  girl  became  overshadowed  with  grief,  as  the 
suspicious  thought  crossed  her  mind.  But  a  repeated 
affirmation  of  his  love  drove  it  away,  and  the  two  entered 
the  quaint  old  parlor  where  Mrs.  Burleigh  and  her  two 
elder  daughters  were  sitting  with  a  visitor. 

Edgarton  did  not  immediately  recognize  an  old  acquaint- 
ance in  the  gayly-dressed  lady  before  him,  who  was  sitting 
half  buried  in  an  elegant  fauteuil ;  but  upon  hearing  his 
name  pronounced  in  a  most  languid,  simpering  tone,  he 
turned,  to  perceive  Miss  Lena  Edwards  standing  to  receive 
his  salutation.  It  was  coldly  given,  for  a  rush  of  memories 


388          CURRENTS  AND  COUNTER  CURRENTS. 

came  crowding  upon  his  mind,  and  blotted  out  the  tran- 
sient gleams  of  affection  which  flitted  across  it. 

A  few  friendly  inquiries  followed  relative  to  his  late  visit 
to  America,  when  Mrs.  Burleigh  remarked, 

"Lady  Anna  informed  me  that  your  grand  scheme  of 
benevolence— or  romance,  as  I  apprehend — came  to  an 
end  a  ftw  months  since.  How  did  it  operate?  Can  a  child 
of  such  low  origin  become  in  any  degree  elevated  by  edu- 
cation? I  confess  I  have  had  many  doubts  concerning  it, 
since  I  first  heard  of  your  folly,  Sir  Charles." 

"  Then  dispel  them,  aunt,  if  you  please,  for  I  can  answer 
you  that  I  congratulate  myself  much  upon  the  unlimited 
success  of  my  experiment." 

"  No  doubt,"  replied  Miss  Kate,  the  eldest  daughter,  with 
a  look  of  hauteur  upon  her  pretty  face.  "  I  can  fully  un- 
derstand the  cause  of  your  self-congratulation,  for  Miss 
Lena  informed  us  that  the  maid  was  considered  very 
pretty,  although  everything  about  her  bespoke  her  pie- 
beianism  and  vulgarity.  But  I  believe,  Cousin  Charles, 
you  are  not  a  close  critic  in  those  points,  and  as  I  learn 
admire  the  jetty  curls  and  rosy  lips  of  the  little  squaw, 
notwithstanding  all  these." 

All  joined  in  the  low  laugh  that  followed  these  remarks, 
while  the  young  man  himself  smiled  and  endeavored  to 
appear  calm  and  unmoved,  but  there  was  a  burning  flush 
upon  his  cheek  and  an  unsteady  throbbing  at  his  heart 
that  convinced  himself,  at  least,  that  the  subject  irritated 
him.  He  quietly  answered,  however, 

"  You  mistake  me,  fair  cousin,  I  am  as  great  an  admirer 
of  grace  and  beauty  as  yourself,  and  as  sensitively  shrink 
from  the  contamination  of  vulgarism  as  my  most  ardent 
friends  could  desire." 

Perhaps  he  spoke  warmly,  for  little  Floy  bounded  into 
his  lap,  and  with  her  tiny  arms  about  his  neck  said,  softly, 

"  See,  papa  is  com  ing  up  the  avenue.    He  has  been  to 


CURRENTS  AND  COUNTER  CURRENTS.         389 

•ee  my  new  horse.  I  want  to  call  him  Fairy,  but  he  laughs 
at  me.  Isn't  it  a  pretty  name,  cousin?" 

"  The  prettiest  you  could  find,  birdie." 

"  Then  come  with  me  and  tell  him  so.  He  will  do  any- 
thing you  like,  for  he  loves  you  so  much ;"  and  the  little 
pleader  kissed  his  cheek,  and  then,  springing  to  the  floor, 
said,  "  Come !" 

"You  are  rude,"  exclaimed  her  sister,  as  they  beheld  her 
leading  her  captive  cousin  away. 

In  a  short  time  Floy  returned  to  the  parlor  with  excuses 
to  the  ladies  from  Sir  Charles,  adding  that  he  had  gone  to 
the  library  with  her  papa  for  a  long  talk. 

The  conference  in  the  library  continued  until  the  dinner- 
bell  rang  through  the  long  hall,  and  its  cheerful  sound 
oroke  in  upon  the  confidential  interview.  As  the  two 
gentlemen  entered  the  dining-hall,  there  was  merriment 
beaming  all  over  the  face  of  the  elder,  while  a  subdued  ex- 
ultation glowed  in  the  light  blue  eyes  of  his  companion 
and  answering  smiles  played  about  his  lips.  The  ladies, 
however,  were  handed  quietly  to  their  seats  with  the  same 
etiff  reserve  which  had  previously  characterized  their  de- 
meanor toward  their  "  silly  cousin,"  as  the  two  young  ladies 
had  been  pleased  to  call  Sir  Charles  for  many  months, 
while  Mrs.  Burleigh,  assuming  more  than  her  wonted  as- 
cidity  since  the  conversation  in  the  parlor,  took  her  accus- 
tomed seat  without  deigning  to  cast  one  glance  at  her  com- 
panions' faces. 

Servants  tripped  noiselessly  about  the  room,  while  a  low 
murmur  of  small-talk  was  kept  up  by  the  sisters  and  Miss 
Lena,  in  which  none  others  engaged,  and  the  dinner-hour 
bade  fair  to  be  an  insufferably  stupid  one,  when  the  old 
gentleman,  deliberately  laying  down  his  knife  and  fork, 
leaned  back  in  his  chair,  threw  up  his  arms,  and  clasping 
his  hands  behind  his  head,  broke  forth  in  a  loud,  merry 
peal  of  laughter. 

"Why,  father!  The  lunatic  asylum  is  undergoing  re- 
is* 


390  CURRENTS  AND  COUNTER  CURRENTS. 

pairs,  and  the  poor  infuriates  are  huddled  into  uncomfort- 
able quarters  just  now.  Do,  pray,  hold  on  to  your  senses 
until  the  house  is  finished,"  exclaimed  Jennie,  tne  youngest 
daughter,  joining  in  the  laugh.  But  Mrs.  Burleigh  and 
Kate  sat  unmoved. 

The  outburst,  however,  changed  the  aspect  of  affairs  in  a 
measure,  and  Jennie  continued, 

"  Do,  father,  tell  us  what  amuses  you.  It  is  so  stupid  tc 
laugh  and  not  know  what  you  are  laughing  at." 

"Why,  you  laugh  because  your  silly  old  father  does. 
That  is  cause  sufficient,  isn't  it,  child  ?" 

"  Cousin  Charles  is  laughing,  too,"  suggested  little  Floy 
from  her  sly  nook  by  her  mother's  side. 

"Well,  then,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  again  dropping  his 
knife  and  fork  and  leaning  back  in  his  chair,  "  let  us  make 
the  good  humor  universal.  What  say  you,  Kate?  Would 
you  like  one  of  the  most  splendid  fetes  of  the  season  ? — 
eclipse,  I  mean,  the  Elliotts  and  the  St.  Glairs,  and  even 
your  own  last  winter's  entertainment.  Eh,  child  ?" 

"Capital,  capital!"  exclaimed  Jennie,  clapping  her  hands 
in  high  glee. 

"What  has  so  changed  your  plans?"  inquired  Kate,  while 
a  blush  of  joyful  surprise  overspread  her  beautiful  face; 
"  you  told  me  only  a  few  weeks  since — " 

"Well,  well,  you  don't  want  it,  then.  I  thought  to 
please  my  charming  daughter  by  a  grand  display  of  the 
old  man's  wealth.  But  it  is  just  as  well,"  he  continued, 
with  a  flourishing  wave  of  the  hand,  and  then  quietly  set- 
tled down  to  his  dinner  again. 

"Oh, .1  didn't  intend  to  say  anything  against  it.  Indeed, 
father,  I  should  like  it  very  much.  I  only  wondered  what 
it  could  be  that  had  so  suddenly  changed  your  mind." 

"Well  argued,  like  a  dutiful  daughter,  and  I  will  tell 
you.  Your  cousin  here  has  told  me  that  a  very  talented 
American  authoress  is  to  be  here  in  a  few  days  on  her 
t  idal  tour,  accompanied  by  a  few  friends ;  and  as  he  haa 


CURRENTS  AND  COUNTER  CURRENTS.         391 

met  her  several  times,  we  will  supersede  the  Vincents  and 
Ellises,  and  outdo  their  propensity  for  lionizing  by  a  grand 
eclat  of  our  own.  Ha,  ha!  How  would  you  like  that?" 

The  cloud  had  disappeared  from  the  family  circle,  and  the 
"  folly  of  Cousin  Charles "  was  suddenly  enveloped  in  the 
excitement  of  the  hour.  Many  questions  were  asked  of 
Edgarton  and  answered  by  him,  he  having  remained  silent 
during  the  conversation  until  applied  to  by  Kate,  who  ia- 
quired, 

"  Is  she  pretty,  Cousin  Charles  ?" 

"  There  are  various  opinions  concerning  the  lady.  I  do 
not  consider  her  beautiful,  yet  perhaps  you  would  call  her 
so." 

When,  however,  they  were  informed  that  she  was  the 
authoress  of  "  Thorny  Way  "  and  "  The  Discarded  Daughter," 
and  of  "Lights  and  Shadows,"  which  had  just  been  an- 
nounced by  the  press,  their  pleasure  was  unbounded,  and 
nothing  could  be  talked  of  during  the  evening  but  the 
coming  festive  scene. 

Miss  Lena,  however,  started,  and  a  flush  of  surprise  suf- 
fused her  face.  "Thorny  Way!"  It  had  reminded  her 
brother  of  Lura — poor  Lura.  Was  she  indeed  laboring  for 
her  daily  bread,  weak,  worn  and  weary,  while  she  herself 
was  reveling  in  mirth  and  luxury?  She  had  not  inquired 
of  her  mother  concerning  her  for  some  time,  and  the  latter 
had  ceased  to  trouble  her  with  the  contents  of  her  sister's 
letters.  In  fact,  she  did  not  know  that  any  had  been  re- 
ceived, as  the  name  of  the  wayward  sister  was  seldom 
mentioned.  Then  there  arose  before  her,  but  for  a  moment 
only,  the  shipwreck,  the  broken  vow  and  her  own  ingrati- 
tude. With  a  slight  shiver  of  remorse,  she  drove  back  her 
dreary  thoughts,  and  entered  with  renewed  interest  into 
the  conversation  about  her. 

On  returning  to  the  parlor,  little  Floy  crept  softly  upon 
the  knee  of  Edgarton  and  whispered  in  his  ear,  while  her 
delicate  arms  encirled  his  neck, 


CURRENTS  AND  COUNTER  CURRENTS. 

"  How  bright  your  eyes  are,  cousin !  And  your  cheeks  are 
as  red  as  when  you  read  that  letter  in  Edgarton  Hall  library. 
You  look  so  pretty  now,  and  Floy  loves  you  so  much." 

Edgarton  pressed  the  little  creature  to  his  heart,  kissed 
her  tenderly,  called  her  "sweet  fairy;"  and  as  the  glow 
deepened  upon  his  cheek,  the  little  head  sank  upon  his 
bosom,  and  in  a  few  moments  the  servant  came  and  boro 
her  sleeping  to  her  chamber. 

There  were  many  changes  in  the  stately  old  mansion 
during  the  ensuing  two  weeks ;  many  hands  were  busy  in 
the  spacious  library,  which  occupied  the  left  wing  and  ex- 
tended the  entire  length  of  the  building ;  family  pictures 
which  had  been  long  neglected  were  brought  forth  and 
hung  upon  the  walls ;  old  sofas  were  removed  from  their 
quiet  nooks,  and  new  ones  took  their  places;  the  heavy 
curtains  at  the  parlor  windows  were  exchanged  for  costly 
lace;  while  brushing,  dusting,  painting  and  varnishing 
everywhere  went  on,  until  all  things  became  new,  and 
Burleigh  House  was  transformed  into  a  scene  of  elegance 
and  wealth. 

Sir  Charles  had  been  absent  some  days  when  Mr.  Bur- 
leigh entered  the  parlor  one  evening,  where  his  wife  and 
daughters  were  sitting,  and  announced  that  the  expected 
party  had  arrived  in  London,  and  that  "  Charles,  the  boy," 
would  be  with  them  on  the  morrow. 

"And  he  has  been  to  Liverpool  to  meet  them?  How 
etrange !  He  must  be  very  intimate  with  some  one,  if  not 
with  all,  of  the  party,"  remarked  Kate,  who  beamed  with 
more  than  her  wonted  radiance  in  the  pleasi  ng  prospect 
before  her. 

Lena  Edwards  had  returned  to  the  elegant  residence  of 
the  Carringtons,  where  her  mother  was  once  more  ensconced, 
after  a  succession  of  visits  among  her  relatives  and  friends 
of  former  days,  and  a  great  struggle  was  going  on  between 
mother  and  daughter  relative  to  the  approaching  fete  at 
Burleigh  House  An  entire  Lew  costume  must  be  procured 


CURRENTS  AND  COUNTER  CURRENTS.          393 

for  that  occasion.  It  would  never  do,  according  to  Lena's 
repeated  assertions,  to  appear  in  either  of  the  dresses  before 
worn.  This  was,  in  truth,  no  easy  task  to  accomplish.  Their 
limited  purse  was  nearly  empty,  and  many  large  bills  had 
been  contracted  which  it  was  impossible  to  pay ;  and  Mrs. 
Edwards  wept  convulsively  at  the  dismal  outlook  before  her. 
Spring  had  come.  The  European  tour  was  freely  talked  of 
by  the  family,  and  the  haughty  George  Carrington  had  made 
no  proposition  for  the  hand  of  her  daughter,  nor  did  she 
eee  any  prospect  of  his  doing  so.  She  had  sacrificed  her 
all  to  this  one  great  purpose.  What  if  it  should  fail  ?  A 
return  to  America  would  be  the  only  alternative  left,  and 
more  than  once  she  was  forced  to  believe  that  this  was 
expected  of  her  at  no  very  distant  day.  Even  the  summer 
residence  of  the  family  had  often  been  the  theme  of  con- 
versation, and  no  invitation  had  been  extended  to  them. 

"  Oh,"  she  sobbed  aloud,  "  that  I  were  back  in  Pleasant 
Cottage  once  more !  Poor  Phelura !  She  is  far  happier  than 
I,  though  she  toils  night  and  day  for  the  food  she  eats." 

"  Perhaps  you  would  like  to  have  me  join  her  in  shirt- 
making?"  interposed  Lena,  sneeringly.  "But  I  have  no 
such  glowing  desires,  I  can  assure  you,  neither  can  I  imagine 
how  it  is  possible  for  us  to  find  an  asylum  in  our  old  home, 
which  is  no  longer  ours,  if  I  understand  the  force  of  mort- 
gages ;  and  as  six  hundred  a  year  would  be  no  more  forth- 
coming, after  the  fashion  of  the  olden  time,  and  there  would 
be  no  manly  hand  to  toil  for  us,  I  think  we  might  as  well 
look  at  the  present  and  let  the  past  sink  into  the  shades 
unmolested.  The  fact  is,  mother,  I  must  and  will  marry 
George  Carrington,  in  spite  of  his  aristocratic  parents  and 
sisters.  I  do  not  imagine  this  so  hopeless  an  endeavor  as 
you  apparently  do,  neither  would  you  despair  had  your 
incredulous  eyes  peeped  in  upon  us  this  morning  while  in 
the  conservatory.  If  Belle  had  not  come  stealing  in,  as  she 
always  does  just  wnen  she  is  not  wanted,  I  think  I  should 
have  no  trouble  about  the  new  silk  which  I  must  have." 


391  CURRENTS  AND  COUNTER  CURRENTS. 

The  right  chord  had  been  touched,  and  none  knew  better 
than  Lena  how  to  play  upon  it. 

"  What  did  he  say,  child?  Tell  me  all,  that  I  may  judge 
for  myself  if  there  be  any  hope.  Oh,  if  you  could  but  be- 
come his  wife,  I  should  not  grudge  Pleasant  Cottage  and  the 
expenditure  of  our  last  farthing.  But  it  is  dreadful,  child  1 
Sometimes  when  alone  I  become  almost  deranged,  thinking, 
thinking.  I  ought  to  have  devoted  that  money  which  we 
have  been  spending  and  hunted  for  poor  Edgar ;  I  do  not 
believe  he  was  drowned.  He  must  be  alive.  Perhaps  he  is 
suffering  somewhere.  Ever  since  the  papers  spoke  of  a  ship 
bound  to  some  foreign  port  having  picked  up  a  boat-load  of 
suffering  mariners,  I  have  felt  that  he  is  alive;"  and  again 
the  distressed  mother  wept  unrestrainedly. 

"  You  seem  determined  to  make  yourself  miserable  some- 
how," replied  the  daughter,  but  there  was  a  pallor  upon  her 
cheek,  and  her  voice  was  low  and  tremulous.  "  I  do  not 
remember  any  such  statement ;  it  was  merely  supposed  that 
such  was  the  case.  Had  he  been  alive,  surely  there  has  been 
sufficient  time  since  that  awful  night  to  acquaint  us  with  the 
fact,  even  though  he  had  been  taken  to  the  south  pole." 

Both  were  silent ;  and  there,  in  that  spacious  room,  in  the 
midst  of  luxury  and  wealth,  painfully  throbbed  two  hearts 
filled  with  remorse  and  self-condemnation. 

Lena  was  the  first  to  speak.  She  had  an  object  to  gain, 
and  the  advance  already  so  confidently  made  must  not  be 
given  r>p. 

"W>11,  dear  mother,"  she  said,  soothingly,  "these  are 
troublous  times,  but  by  and  by  you  shall  sail  upon  smooth 
waters.  You  have  risked  much  for  me,  and  I  will  do 
much  for  you.  I  was  speaking  about  the  t£te-a-tete  in 
the  conservatory  this  morning.  Have  you  forgotten  that 
you  wished  to  hear  what  the  haughty  bachelor  said  to 
me?" 

Mrs.  Edwards  raised  her  head  and  looked  with  pleased 
interest  at  the  speaker. 


CURRENTS  AND  COUNTER  CURRENTS.         395 

"  You  know  I  can't  give  you  his  manner,  which  perhaps 
was  more  expressive  than  his  words.  But  I  was  telling  him 
of  the  American  authoress  whom  we  are  to  meet  next  week, 
and  he  inquired  if  she  is  beautiful.  I  replied  that  Cousin 
Charles,  I  believe,  considered  her  so.  '  All  Americans  are 
peculiarly  so,'  he  rejoined, '  and  I  shall  be  obliged  to  yield 
my  impressible  heart  to  one  of  them  some  day,  as  I  am 
a  wicked  idolater  at  Beauty's  shrine.'  He  was  plucking  & 
rose  from  a  stem  high  above  him  at  the  moment ;  and  as 
he  handed  it  to  me,  his  eyes  spoke  the  language  I  had  been 
longing  to  hear.  Then  he  added,  'I  doubt  much  if  the 
cheeks  of  the  famous  blue  will  at  all  vie  with  those  of  my 
pretty  cousin  this  morning.'  Wasn't  it  provoking  that  Belle 
should  just  then  intrude  herself  upon  us  ?  I  do  believe  she 
watches  him,  and  understanding  his  preference,  dares  not 
leave  us  alone.  But  I  am  determined  to  outwit  her.  On 
that  evening  he  shall  propose.  I  declare  it — he  shall  pro- 
pose !" 

The  mother's  eyes  kindled,  and  a  smile  of  satisfaction  for 
a  moment  played  upon  her  features. 

"He  admired  you  much  in  the  pink  brocade  at  Lord 
Elliott's,  and  I  am  sure  you  can  find  nothing  more  be- 
coming." 

"  Do  you  wish  me  labeled  'parvenu,'  so  that  every  be- 
holder may  read  ?  No ;  I  have  worn  that  dress,  pretty  as 
you  seem  to  think  it,  twice  already ;  and  rather  than  appear 
in  it  again,  we  will  commence  our  proposed  trip  to  America 
and  shirt-making.  By  your  own  suggestion,  I  have  no  other 
suitable,  and  all  that  is  left  for  us  is  to  provide  one  or  sink 
into  obscurity." 

Mrs.  Edwards  groaned  aloud.  But  the  next  moment  the 
purse  was  opened,  and  a  sufficient  sum  placed  in  Lena's 
hand  for  the  desired  purchase. 

"  Not  enough  left  to  take  us  back  to  the  pleasant  home 
we  have  left,"  sighed  the  mother,  as  she  again  closed  it  and 
placed  it  in  its  resting-place. 


CHAPTER   XLV. 
THE  DISCLOSURE. 

rPHE  night  for  which  so  many  hearts  had  palpitated 
-1-  with  anxiety  and  pleasure  at  last  arrived,  and  Bur- 
leigh  house  shone  out  amid  the  green  foliage  that  sur- 
rounded it  an  illuminated  scene  of  festive  grandeur.  There 
were  many  lights,  too,  skirting  the  long  avenues,  peeping 
into  the  shaded  arbors  or  throwing  their  many-colored  rays 
over  the  fresh  young  grass,  and  where  the  fragrant  spring 
flowers  were  blooming,  filling  the  evening  air  with  odors 
and  the  joyous  young  heart  with  congenial  gladness.  The 
stars  looked  dreamily  down,  but  the  moon  had  not  come 
to  dim  the  brightness  of  the  scene,  and  the  happy,  good- 
natured  host  walked  with  silent  satisfaction  up  and  down 
the  spacious  grounds,  rubbing  his  hands  in  evident  merri- 
ment, and  now  and  then  indulging  in  a  low,  muffled  laugh 
which  did  not  awaken  the  echoes  or  intrude  itself  upon  the 
ear  of  any  wandering  listener.  It  was  early  yet,  and  the 
few  who  had  come  during  the  day  were  busily  engaged  in 
putting  the  last  finishing  touches  upon  their  adornings. 

Mrs.  Edwards,  restless  and  unhappy,  had  during  the  week 
ridden  over  to  Edgarton  Hall,  where  she  had  endeavored  to 
buoy  up  her  sinking  spirits  by  confidentially  communicating 
to  Lady  Anna  the  glorious  anticipation  of  her  daughter,  and 
in  return  had  been  graciously  entertained  and  invited  to  a 
Beat  in  the  carriage,  in  which,  with  Lady  Anna,  she  had 
proceeded  at  an  early  hour  to  Burleigh  house. 

"I  believe  that  I  owe  you  much,"  said  the  stately 
lady  during  their  ride,  "  and  you  may  be  sure  of  my  last- 
ing friendship  and  gratitude  for  your  interference  in  that 

190 


THE  DISCLOSURE.  397 

foolish  love  affair  of  my  son's.  It  would  have  been  death 
to  me  to  see  him  thus  ignobly  married.  Indeed,  the  very 
thoughts  of  such  a  thing  shock  me  beyond  description." 

"  You  may  well  rejoice,"  replied  her  companion,  "  and 
your  avowal  of  friendship  fully  compensates  me  for  all 
the  risk  I  ran  of  losing  your  own  and  his  affection  in  my 
earnest  desire  to  benefit  you  both  so  much.  She  was  an 
artful  child,  and  somehow  managed  to  insinuate  herself 
into  his  affections,  I  never  could  tell  how.  To  be  sure,  she 
has  a  pretty  face  enough,  and  there  was  something  about 
her  to  excite  one's  sympathy ;  but  when  she  disclosed  her 
designs  upon  Edgarton,  I  felt  how  disgusting  such  a  union 
would  be,  and  determined  more  firmly  than  ever  that  he 
should  be  kept  from  committing  himself  until  the  infatua- 
tion wore  off,  although  I  more  than  half  believed  that  he 
had  already  taken  the  fatal  step,  and  subsequent  letters 
proved  my  fears  to  be  correct." 

"  You  don't  say  that  Charles  Edgarton  engaged  to  marrj 
that  Indian  girl?" 

"  I  do,"  was  the  firm,  low  answer. 

"  From  what  a  depth  of  degradation  you  have  saved  us !" 
almost  shrieked  Lady  Edgarton,  as  she  clasped  the  hand  of 
her  companion.  "  I  will  never  forget  it.  You  shall  be  my 
friend,  and  I  will  be  firmly  and  tenaciously  yours.  Lady 
Eveline  has  promised  to  endeavor  to  win  back  the  truant 
lover,  and  I  have  no  doubt  she  will  succeed.  A  little 
strategy,  you  know,  accomplishes  so  much  with  masculine 
hearts,  and  my  son  has  a  very  foolish  one,  I  confess ;  not  at 
all  like  mine.  Love,  no  doubt,  is  a  fine  affair,  but  it  never 
can  turn  the  balance  against  wealth  and  position.  It  ia 
foolish  to  deny  this,  and  a  sickly  sentimentality  to  adhere 
to  such  romance.  At  any  rate,  I  was  never  more  rejoiced 
than  when  he  told  me  that  she  had  returned  to  her  own 
people.  I  will  take  good  care  that  he  never  goes  there 
after  her." 

This  was  a  step  in  the  right  direction.    Lady  Edgarton 

34 


398  THE  DISCLOSURE. 

had  sworn  to  be  the  firm  friend  of  Mrs.  Edwards,  and  the 
weary,  troubled,  remorseful  heart  felt  happier  and  lighter 
than  for  many  weeks  before. 

At  an  unusually  early  hour  carriages  rolled  along  the 
broad  avenues,  and  brocades  and  laces  brushed  up  the 
winding  stairways  and  disappeared  in  gayly  illuminated 
rooms  above,  for  all  were  anxious  to  meet  the  talented 
American  authoress  who  had  succeeded  so  well  in  pleasing 
public  taste  on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic. 

Lena  Edwards  was  full  of  joyous  anticipation,  as  George 
Carrington  handed  her  into  the  carriage  and  seated  himself 
beside  her,  in  preference  to  taking  the  vacant  seat  by  his 
sister,  and  during  the  short  drive  she  was  picturing  to  her- 
self the  dismay  of  the  envious  arid  her  own  defiant  joy 
when  she  should  stand  before  the  world  the  affianced  bride 
of  George  Carrington.  She  looked  well;  no  one  could 
imagine  that  thirty  years  and  upward  had  passed  over  that 
fair  face,  so  bright  and  blooming.  Her  new  dress  was  very 
becoming,  and  the  rich  bertha  that  had  half  covered  her  full 
neck  and  well-rounded  arms  was  of  the  costliest  Honiton. 
As  she  had  stood  in  the  parlor  waiting  for  the  carriage,  he 
too  had  told  her  that  she  looked  charming.  No  wonder, 
then,  that  the  wellnigh  empty  purse  was  forgotten  and  her 
mother's  tears  remembered  only  as  an  April  shower. 

Mrs.  Edwards  had  taken  a  seat  in  the  shade  of  a  large 
bay-window  that  opened  into  the  garden  directly  opposite 
to  the  door  of  the  saloon  at  which  the  guests  were  an- 
nounced, that  she  might  obtain  a  good  view  of  each  with- 
out herself  being  an  object  of  notice,  as  she  said.  Lady 
Anna  flitted  near  her,  chatting  merrily  with  all  around 
her,  when  she  was  arrested  in  her  conversation  with  Lord 
Vincent  by  hearing  the  remark, 

"  She  is  certainly  the  most  beautiful,  winning  creature 
my  eyes  ever  luxuriated  upon.  If  Sir  Charles  were  not 
BO  unremitting  in  his  attentions,  I  should  own  myself  a 
victim  to  the  wily  god." 


THE  DISCLOSURE.  399 

"  Whom  can  they  mean  ?"  she  thought.  "  And  why  have 
they  coupled  my  son's  name  with  this  fascinating  beauty  ?" 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Fenn  were  announced,  and  a  murmur  near 
heralded  the  youthful  bride,  leaning  upon  the  arm  of  a 
noble-looking  gentleman,  as  "the  American  authoress." 
A  suppressed  scream  reached  her  ear,  and  she  turned  to 
T  Ascertain  its  cause,  just  in  time  to  see  Mrs.  Edwards  step 
hurriedly  through  the  window  upon  the  balcony,  and  then 
disappear  from  sight.  She  was  about  to  follow,  when  Lord 
Elliott  gently  touched  her  arm,  and  slightly  bowing,  said, 
in  a  low  tone, 

"  I  do  not  wonder  at  the  taste  of  Sir  Charles ;  but  pray 
inform  us,  Lady  Edgarton,  if  the  report  be  true,  and  your 
eon  has  really  secured  the  queen  of  beauty?  Look!"  and 
she  raised  her  eyes,  to  see  Flora  Dupont  and  her  father 
enter  and  receive  the  salutations  of  the  host.  "  Isn't  she 
superb?  And  her  father  must  be  a  prince,  for  he  has 
showered  her  with  diamonds." 

Mrs.  Fenn  for  a  time  had  been  overlooked  and  quite 
forgotten  in  that  crowded  saloon  by  the  dazzling  light  that 
had  followed  her,  but  in  an  elegant  dressing-room  above 
she  was  receiving  an  unexpected  amount  of  attention.  • 

Lura  had  not  anticipated  meeting  either  her  mother  or 
sister  at  this  sumptuous  entertainment,  which  she  had  been 
told  was  given  in  her  honor,  or  she  would  have  shrunk  from 
exposing  them  to  such  a  public  exhibition  of  feeling  as  she 
well  knew  her  presence  would  call  forth.  Much  as  they 
had  wronged  her,  she  had  no  desire  then  to  subject  them 
to  open  disgrace  and  shame.  Edgarton,  however,  had  dis- 
closed to  Flora  the  plot  concerning  herself,  and  she  enjoyed 
in  anticipation  the  surprise  which  she  was  conscious  would 
be  manifested  on  two  faces  present. 

Lena  was  just  descending  the  stairs,  leaning  upon  the 
arm  of  George  Carrington,  when  her  mother  met  her  with 
pallid  lips  and  face  of  rigid  cast,  and  motioned  her  to  ti*ra 
and  follow  her. 


400  THE  DISCLOSURE. 

"  Pardon  me,"  she  exclaimed,  withdrawing  her  arm  from 
that  of  her  companion ;  "  I  fear  that  my  mother  is  ill.  Pass 
on  to  the  door,  and  I  will  follow  in  a  few  moments  if  my 
fears  are  groundless,"  she  added,  as  she  retraced  her  steps 
and  again  entered  the  room  which  she  had  just  left.  There 
sat  her  mother,  motionless  and  pale  as  though  her  blood 
had  frozen  and  all  power  of  speech  had  left  her  for  ever. 

•'Tell  me,  for  the  love  of  life,  what  is  it  that  excites  you 
BO  much?  Speak,  if  you  wish  me  to  remain  here,  for  I 
must  go.  Mr.  Carrington  is  awaiting  me  at  the  foot  of  the 
stairway." 

'  No,  no,  not  there !  Do  not  go  there,  Lena,  or  you  wiU 
return  as  powerless  as  you  now  behold  me.  Let  us  fly 
from  the  house,  from  London,  from  the  world — I  care  not 
whither,  only  from  here." 

Lena  trembled.  She  had  never  seen  her  mother  thus 
agitated  before,  and  the  sight  overwhelmed  her.  Falling 
upon  her  knees  before  the  statue-like  figure,  she  begged  her 
to  reveal  the  cause  of  her  distress. 

"  Phelura,  the  child  we  have  abused,  neglected,  scorned, 
is  below,  the  talented  American  authoress,  the  wife  of 
Lewis  Fenn,  while  we  are  here  poor,  dependent,  hell- 
deserving  mortals !" 

"Fury  the  wife  of  Lewis  Fenn!  You  rave!  It  is  not 
BO  I"  and  clasping  her  hands,  she  groaned  aloud.  "  Your 
eyes  must  have  become  dim.  How  did  you  know  her? 
Say,  at  least,  that  you  may  be  mistaken." 

"  Not  know  my  child  ?  It  was  she — my  heart  was  not 
deceived." 

"  And  Lewis  Fenn,  he  to  whom  my  heart  clung  with  a 
tenacious  affection  which  nothing  could  sever — he  is  lost  to 
me  for  ever.  Shame  on  a  work  that  has  such  a  contempt- 
ible ending!  You  promised  me  George  Carrington — told 
me  he  was  vithin  my  power,  and  that  all  that  was  neces- 
sary to  such  a  glorious  achievement  lay  within  mysel£ 
False,  false  deceiver  i  He  too  is  lost,  and  my  heart  be- 


THE  DISCLOSURR  401 

comes  stone  within.  You  brought  me  to  this,  unnatural 
mother  that  you  are !"  she  almost  shrieked,  as,  rising,  she 
rapidly  paced  the  floor.  "You  taught  me  to  despise  my 
sister  by  making  her  my  slave.  You  have  fed  my  vanity, 
fostered  my  foolish  hopes,  until  now,  and  we  are  ruined — 
ruined  1  A  terrible  demon  is  within  my  heart.  I  could 
almost  throttle  you — yes,  you,  my  parent !" 

"  My  child,  my  child,  you  are  mad !  Compose  yourself, 
or  a  worse  calamity  than  all  will  befall  you." 

"I  compose  myself?  Where  are  the  alluring  riches 
which  you  have  held  out  to  me  ?  This  night  George  Car- 
rington  and  his  proud  mother  and  sister  will  learn  our  dis- 
grace from  her  lips,  and  the  finale  will  be  expulsion  from 
their  house.  Where  shall  we  go  ?  All  of  our  little  fortune 
is  swallowed  up  in  the  foolish  delusion  of  this  one  hour,  in 
a  design  which  I  should  never  have  found  strength  to  carry 
into  execution  had  it  not  been  for  your  counsel  and  advice. 
Beggars!  How  does  that  sound  to  you?  Ha,  ha!  Per- 
haps she  will  bestow  a  small  pittance  from  her  abundance, 
just  to  keep  us  from  starving.  Yet  she  is  foolish  if  she 
does.  We  did  not  offer  her  anything  when  we  cruelly 
drove  her  from  our  door,  and  compelled  her  to  toil  for  her 
bread.  No,  no!  And  Lewis  Fenn  pitied  and  married  her! 
Ha,  ha!  I  would  be  willing  to  starve  for  a  while  to  receive 
euch  a  recompense." 

"  Oh,  do  not  blame  me,  my  child.  It  was  for  your  good 
that  I  loved  you  more  than  all  the  rest.  You  were  my  first 
born,  Lena,  my  idol." 

"No,  no!  It  was  not  love,  but  the  life-throes  of  youi 
selfish  heart.  You  thought  to  regain  your  lost  social  po 
eition  by  my  beauty.  You  have  deceived  yourself,  and 
brought  ruin  upon  us  all.  No,  no,  not  all!  The  being 
whom  our  heartlessness  sought  to  crush  has  risen  far  above 
us,  to  mock  us  and  laugh  at  our  calamity." 

The  paroxysm  was  over,  and  the  proud  Lena  sank  into 
a  chair  and  moaned  aloud,  while  the  hot  tears  trickled 


«02  THE  DISCLOSURE. 

through  her  icy  fingers  down  upon  the  pearly  silk  and 
costly  lace  with  which  two  hours  before  she  had  adorned 
herself  with  a  heart  full  of  hope  and  ple-asing  excitement. 
Both  were  silent,  when  the  door  suddenly  opened,  and 
George  Carrington  stood  before  them.  He  had  descended 
the  stairs,  as  Lena  had  commanded  upon  leaving  him  so 
suddenly;  but  fearing  she  might  need  some  assistance  if 
her  mother  was  really  ill,  he  had  ascended  again,  and 
reached  the  door  just  as  the  disclosure  was  made.  The 
door  was  ajar,  and  the  conversation  from  within  fell  with 
distinctness  upon  his  ear.  Could  it  be  true?  Was  the 
child  whom  he  well  remembered,  but  whom  he  had  sup- 
posed dead,  since  he  had  never  heard  her  spoken  of  by 
either  Lena  or  her  mother — was  she  the  talented  Mrs. 
Fenn,  upon  whom  so  much  honor  had  been  bestowed?  He 
stood  spellbound,  listening  to  the  recital  of  the  guilt  of  the 
fair  creature  whom  he  had  more  than  once  flattered  him- 
self he  could  love,  until  he  heard  from  her  own  lips  the 
plot  long  matured  for  ensnaring  him.  He  blessed  the  fate 
which  had  sent  him  thither  and  saved  him  from  a  lifelong 
mortification  and  repentance.  Still,  he  pitied  them ;  and 
when  the  sobs  of  the  broken-hearted  girl  reached  him,  he 
had  resolved  upon  a  plan  of  action,  and  without  any  hesi- 
tation he  pushed  open  the  door  and  intruded  himself  upon 
their  grief.  Both  looked  wildly  at  bun,  as  he  approached, 
but  neither  of  them  spoke. 

"  Shall  I  call  the  carriage  and  send  you  to  our  home  ?w 
he  inquired,  mildly. 

"  No,  not  to  your  home — to  Edgarton  Hall.  Send  us  to 
Edgarton  Hall.  Lady  Anna  is  my  friend;  she  will  pity 
me,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Edwards,  passionately. 

"As  you  will.  In  five  minutes  come  down  the  back 
stairway ;  I  will  be  there  to  assist  you." 

He  left  the  room,  and  without  a  word  Lena  and  her 
mother  prepared  to  obey  the  command. 

"No,  I  must  see  her — him — once,"  exclaimed  Lena;  and 


THE  DISCLOSURE.  403 

throwing  her  mantle  down,  she  hurriedly  left  the  room. 
To  descend  the  stairs  and  cross  the  long  hall  was  hut  the 
work  of  a  moment ;  and  all  were  too  intently  listening,  with 
eyes  fixed  upon  the  door  of  the  music-room,  whence  issued 
the  most  melodious  voice  which  they  had  ever  heard,  to 
notice  the  pale,  haggard  face  that  flitted  by  or  peered 
longingly  in,  then  passed  to  the  opposite  door,  where  a 
group  had  gathered  around  the  star  of  the  evening,  hang- 
ing upon  her  words,  as  she  talked  to  them  of  other  lands. 
Shi  inking  in  the  shade  of  the  doorway,  Lena,  too,  stood 
listening. 

"  Charmingly  performed,"  exclaimed  a  gentleman,  as  the 
voice  of  the  singer  died  away. 

"She  is  an  old  friend  of  yours,  Mrs.  Fenn,  I  believe?" 
remarked  another. 

"  She  has  for  a  long  time  been  very  dear  to  me." 

The  crowd  parted,  and  Lena  beheld  Flora  Hawes  ap- 
proaching, leaning  upon  the  arm  of  Charles  Edgarton.  It 
could  be  no  other.  Although  she  was  dressed  in  the  costli- 
est robes  and  sparkled  with  diamonds,  yet  that  smile,  that 
face  and  those  deep  liquid  eyes  could  belong  to  no  other. 
She  approached,  and  Lura,  rising,  pronounced  her  name. 
It  was  Flora.  With  a  bloodless  hand  pressed  tightly  over 
her  lips,  lest  her  pent-up  agony  should  become  audible  and 
her  presence  be  discovered,  Lena  flew  back  to  her  room  and 
fell  prostrate  upon  the  floor. 

Carrington  was  beside  her.  He  had  returned,  after  wait- 
ing impatiently  by  the  carriage  for  ten  minutes,  to  hasten 
their  exit. 

"  She  has  fainted,"  he  said,  calmly.  "  Bring  her  mantle 
and  hood,  and  follow  me." 

Mrs.  Edwards  obeyed  without  a  word,  and  the  strong 
man  bore  the  insensible  girl  in  his  arms  along  the  winding 
passage,  down  the  narrow  stairs  and  out  into  the  open  air. 
Having  laid  her  upon  the  velvet  cushions  of  his  carriage, 
he  returned  to  the  house  for  water  and  a  glass  of  wine.  His 


404  THE  DISCLOSURE. 

efforts  at  restoration  were  successful,  and  in  a  few  minute* 
the  carriage  was  rolling  rapidly  away  toward  Edgarton  Hall, 
bearing  two  wretched  beings,  silent  in  their  despair. 

George  Carrington  re-entered  the  drawing-room  a  half- 
hour  after  With  a  mingled  feeling  of  pain  and  gladness,  yet 
inwardly  relieved  that  Lena  Edwards  was  not  present,  and 
that  once  more  he  felt  heart-free,  willing  to  be  pleased  or 
charmed,  as  the  case  might  be. 

Edgarton  was  standing  near  him,  conversing  carelessly 
with  his  mother  and  Lady  Eveline. 

"I  do  not  think  you  use  us  fairly,"  remarked  the  last 
mentioned,  as  the  young  man  was  hurrying  away.  "Al- 
most every  one  else  in  the  room  has  been  presented  to  that 
peerless  beauty,  and  you  have  not  as  yet  granted  us  that 
honor." 

"  I  did  not  know  that  you  wished  it,"  was  the  cold  reply. 
"But  see,  she  is  alone  now,  with  the  exception  of  that 
coxcomb,  Leroy,  who  I  am  sure  will  flee  at  our  approach. 
Come;  I  will  no  longer  be  pronounced  a  delinquent  in 
civilities  to  my  dearest  friends ;"  and  handing  his  mother 
over  to  his  friend  Carrington,  the  four  proceeded,  with 
many  interruptions,  toward  the  bay-window  where  Flora 
was  evidently  endeavoring  to  shield  herself  from  the  gazo 
of  the  many  eyes  fixed  upon  her.  She  smiled,  however,  as 
she  saw  Edgarton  approaching,  and  her  dark  eyes  beamed 
with  pleasure  as  she  watched  his  coming. 

He  hesitated  for  a  moment,  and  a  slight  tremor  passed 
through  his  frame  as  he  said, 

"This  is  Flora  Hawes,  the  wild  Indian  girl  of  Mackinaw, 
How  Miss  Dupont.  Mother,"  he  continued,  in  a  low  voice, 
"  my  protegee  ;  can  you  receive  her  as  your  daughter  ?  Shall 
she  be  mine  ?" 

A  little  jeweled  hand  was  extended  first  to  Lady  Eveline, 
then  to  the  proud,  dark-eyed  woman  whom  she  knew  to  be 
Edgarton's  mother,  and  toward  whom  for  his  sake  her  heart 


THE  DISCLOSURE.  405 

yearned  with  kindling  affection.  The  haughty  lady  clasped 
it  in  her  own  and  pressed  it  tenderly,  while  Lady  Eveline 
took  the  arm  of  a  gentleman  standing  near  who  turned  to 
Bpeak  to  her,  and  walked  away.  There  was  anger  in  her 
heart  which  she  did  not  endeavor  to  conceal. 

"lie  has  deceived  us,"  she  thought,  and  her  heart 
throbbed  convulsively,  as  she  looked  upon  her  rival.  "  It 
is  all  over,  then.  She  loves  him ;  and  she  has  in  her  pos- 
session the  heart  I  fondly  hoped  to  win  back  to  myselt 
Peerless  beauty !  I  do  not  blame  him.  Yet  how  we  have 
all  been  deceived!  She  is  no  plebeian — no  Indian  girl;" 
and  with  her  companion  she  passed  out  upon  the  lawn, 
and  sauntered  moodily  and  almost  silently  beneath  the 
shadows  of  the  huge  old  trees,  looking  up  to  the  mild-eyed 
stars  and  down  upon  the  early  spring  flowers,  until  the  cool 
air  had  calmed  her  throbbing  brow  and  brought  back  the 
color  to  her  cheek  and  lips. 

"You  are  better  now,"  said  her  companion;  "I  feared 
you  were  ill." 

"  Yes,  better,"  she  replied,  impatiently.  u  Let  us  return 
to  the  house." 

Lady  Edgarton  held  the  little  hand  tightly  in  her  own 
for  a  long  time,  while  her  thoughts  ran  rapidly  back  over 
the  last  few  months.  She  had  not  heard  the  strange  story 
of  Flora  Dupont's  real  parentage,  and,  after  all,  it  mattered 
but  little.  Her  appearance  bespoke  wealth  abundant- 
wealth  from  some  source ;  and  if  it  were  indeed  true  that 
Indian  blood  really  coursed  in  her  veins,  she  would  be 
none  the  less  the  proud  queen  of  beauty,  peerless  as  she 
now  appeared.  < 

Flora  tenderly  twined  her  disengaged  arm  around  the 
erect  figure  beside  her,  and  whispered, 

"I  think  we  shall  love  each  other  very  much." 

"Very  much,"  echoed  Edgarton,  close  to  her  elbow. 
u  Shall  it  not  be  so,  mother?" 

They  were  interrupted,  and  he  heard  no  reply  to  hii 


400  THE  DISCLOSURE. 

question,  as  Mr.  Dupont  approached  to  claim  his  daughter 
for  a  walk  in  the  conservatory. 

"Her  father  is  a  noble-looking  gentleman,"  remarked 
Lady  Edgarton  to  her  son,  as  the  two  walked  away. 

"  Fine-looking,  but  of  low  propensities,  you  would  say, 
for  he  married  a  poor  girl  much  inferior  to  him  in  wealth 
and  position,  and  thereby  offended  his  friends.  But  she 
died  when  Flora  was  very  young,  and  ever  since  he  has 
remained  true  to  the  love  he  bore  her." 

There  was  a  little  wickedness  in  the  heart  of  Edgarton, 
as  he  said  this — a  feeling  of  triumph,  of  satisfaction,  as  he 
beheld  the  chagrin  of  his  only  parent;  but  when  she  in- 
quired tenderly, "  Surely  she  was  not  a — "  his  heart  softened, 
and  he  answered,  unhesitatingly, 

"  No,  no,  dear  mother.  There  is  no  Indian  blood  in  her 
veins — there  is  only  that  which  is  as  pure  as  any  coursing 
through  your  own.  You  shall  hear  her  story  to-morrow,  if 
you  will  invite  them  to  our  house.  You  know  I  promised 
to  await  your  permission  to  bring  her.  I  think  I  have, 
and  feel  amply  repaid  for  my  patience." 

"  Yes,  Charles,  she  is  worthy  of  you,  and  I  am  sure  I 
shall  bless  you  for  such  a  daughter." 

There  spoke  the  true  heart.  Much  that  was  good  and 
noble  was  there,  but  self-interest  had  covered  it,  and  dis- 
appointments had  interposed  a  barrier  to  the  secret  chamber 
in  which  her  better  nature  lay  concealed.  Maternal  love, 
however,  had  conquered  all  unworthy  impulses,  and  given 
thiit  better  nature  full  sway. 


CHAPTER   XLVI. 

ALL'S  WELL  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  i 

was  a  lengthy  conversation  the  following  moro« 
JL  ing  in  Lady  Edgarton's  private  parlor  between  herself 
and  son,  the  conclusion  of  which  was  that  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Fenn  should  be  informed  of  the  condition  of  Mrs.  Edwards 
and  Lena,  that  some  arrangements  might  be  consummated 
for  their  leaving  London  and  vicinity  as  soon  as  possible, 
since  no  one  could  now  feel  honored  by  having  them  re- 
main, and  they  certainly  could  experience  no  pleasure  in 
prolonging  a  visit  which  could  only  be  fraught  with  pain 
for  them. 

A  message  was  therefore  immediately  despatched,  and 
late  in  the  afternoon  the  newly-wedded  pair  arrived.  Lura 
looked  more  charming  in  the  rich  riding-dress  she  wore 
than  she  did  the  evening  before  in  a  robe  of  white  satin, 
enveloped  in  a  costly  gossamer  lace — at  least  in  the  eyes 
of  her  devoted  husband ;  for  she  was  a  demure  little  body, 
and  a  sober,  quiet  costume  best  became  her.  There  were 
traces  of  tears  upon  her  cheek  and  a  hesitating  languor  in 
her  usually  buoyant  step  that  betokened  a  heavy  heart. 

"  Let  me  enter  alone,"  she  murmured,  as  they  reached 
the  door  of  an  upper  chamber,  in  which  Lady  Edgarton 
had  informed  her  that  the  unhappy  pair  could  be  found. 
"  When  I  wish  you,  Lewis,  will  you  come  at  my  call  ?" 

Lura  stepped  within  the  room,  and  the  words  "  Mother!" 
"Sister!"  fell  from  her  tremulous  lips  like  softest  music. 
Neither  turned  to  look  upon  her,  but  the  head  of  the 
mother  drooped  lower,  as  it  rested  upon  her  hand,  and  a 
stifled  groan  broke  the  stillness  which  followed. 

40T 


408        ALL'S  WELL  THAT  ENDS  WELL. 

•'Mother,  dear  mother,  will  you  not  look  upon  your 
child?  Will  you  not  forget  the  hateful  past,  and  take  me 
to  that  bosom  on  which,  twenty-three  years  ago  to-day,  my 
infant  head  was  first  pillowed  ?  Speak  to  me !  Only  say 
that  you  will  be  our  mother,  Lewis's  and  mine,  and  I  will 
be  content." 

A  little  hand  lay  trembling  upon  the  shoulder  of  the 
broken-hearted  mother  while  these  words  were  uttered; 
then  its  owner  stooped  and  impressed  a  burning  kiss  upon 
the  hot,  wrinkled  brow  before  her.  With  a  scream  of  de- 
light the  long  arms  were  extended,  and  Lura  once  more  lay 
•weeping  upon  the  maternal  bosom.  The  wrongs  of  yearc 
were  forgotten ;  the  snow  and  ice  which  hatred  and  revenge 
had  left  chilling  upon  the  footprints  of  Time  all  melted 
away  in  that  fond  embrace,  and  the  glorious  sunshine  of 
reconciliation  chased  away  every  lingering  shadow,  and 
left  everything  brighter  than  it  had  been  for  many  days. 

Lena  had  arisen,  and  turning  her  back  upon  the  affecting 
scene,  looked  out  upon  the  beautiful  garden,  motionless  and 
BtiU. 

"  Sister,  will  you  not  turn,  that  I  may  look  into  your  face 
and  read  my  doom?  He  has  no  sister,  and  I  have  only 
you.  Will  you  not  love  us?  Will  you  not  be  our  sister ?" 

Apparently,  Lena  did  not  hear  these  kind,  gentle  words, 
for  she  moved  not,  and  her  face  still  retained  the  rigid  pal- 
lor of  death. 

Lura  was  frightened.    Again  she  spoke : 

"  The  chain,  Lena,  with  which  he  bound  that  crooked 
branch  to  yours  on  that  Christmas  eve — shall  we  sever  it?" 

With  a  sudden  start  the  statue  turned  and  with  burning 
eyes  looked  intently  into  the  face  of  the  patient  pleader  by 
her  side. 

" He  loved  you  then !"  she  sighed.  " Here !  take  it;"  and 
drawing  from  her  bosom  the  fragile  chain,  she  threw  it  upon 
the  floor  at  her  feet.  "  My  life  has  been  a  cheat,  all  of  it, 
even  this  detested  love.  Go!  I  will  not  be  mocked.  Love' 


ALL'S  WELL  THAT  ENDS  WELL.      409 

you?  I  tell  you  you  shall  not  touch  me!  I  hate  you, 
hate  her,  hate  everybody !"  and  pointing  her  jeweled  finger 
to  the  crouching  form  of  her  mother,  who  sat  half  buried 
in  a  cushioned  chair,  she  turned  again  to  the  window. 

For  a  moment  only,  the  old  fire  blazed  up  in  the  deep 
gray  eyes  of  Lura,  but  a  single  glance  at  the  bent  form  of 
her  mother  quenched  the  burning  flame;  and  stepping  to 
the  door,  she  called  her  husband. 

"  Our  mother,  Lewis,"  she  said,  in  a  low  tone ;  and  he 
advanced,  clasped  the  wrinkled  hand  in  his  own  and 
kissed  her  cold  cheek. 

"  Our  mother,"  he  replied.  "And  Lena;  will  she  be  our 
sister?" 

He  walked  toward  her,  but  with  an  impatient  gesture  she 
motioned  him  away.  He  obeyed,  and  turning  again  to 
Mrs.  Edwards,  seated  himself  beside  her. 

"  I  am  very  miserable,"  sobbed  the  mother,  hysterically 
"  My  life  has  been  a  mockery,  and  now  at  the  last  all  my 
hopes  are  shipwrecked  and  I  am  lost." 

"Oh  no,"  interposed  Mr.  Fenn,  pleasantly.  "We  will 
find  new  hopes,  new  joys.  Let  the  old  ones  go.  They 
were  shipwrecked  because  not  worth  saving.  There  is  a 
Hand  that  will  guide  our  hopes  if  they  are  pure.  Is  it  not 
BO  Lura?  You  shall  find  such  as  are  worthy  of  your  de- 
clining years,  and  you  shall  yet  be  happy." 

"  Not  happy.  You  know  not  how  miserable  I  am — how 
dark  my  future." 

"  Let  me  see  if  I  cannot  brighten  it.  There  is  a  beautiful 
little  cottage  in  a  distant  city  on  the  other  side  of  the  Atlan- 
tic. Nearly  six  months  ago  it  was  sold  to  foreclose  a  mort- 
gage. I  bought  it ;  and  as  it  needed  some  repairs,  I  took 
great  pleasure  in  attending  to  them,  and  it  is  now  one  of  the 

loveliest  homes  in  the  beautiful  city  of  T .    Peace  and 

contentment  reign  throughout  its  newly-furnished  rooms, 
and  happiness  fills  every  apartment.  Return  thither,  and 


410      ALL'S  WELL  THAT  ENDS  WELL. 

find  it.  It  is  your  home,  and  in  it  you  shall  need  no  good 
thing." 

The  poor  woman  made  no  reply,  but  sob  after  sob  filled 
the  room  and  fell  with  mournful  cadence  upon  the  heart* 
of  two  present.  The  statue  at  the  window  moved  not,  and 
Mr.  Fenn  continued : 

"  Now  for  the  purest  joy  of  all.  There  is  one  over  the 
water  awaiting  you.  Your  future  is  not  dark,  my  mother, 
for  a  dearer  son  than  I  can  ever  hope  to  be  waits  to  blesa 
you  with  his  love.  Edgar  lives." 

"0  God!"  she  cried,  with  upraised  hands,  "this  is  more 
joy  than  my  poor  sinful  heart  can  bear.  I  do  not  deserve 
it.  Oh  for  the  power  to  praise  thee !  The  dead  is  alive. 
The  lost  is  found ;"  and  overcome  with  excitement,  she  sank 
down,  her  head  pillowed  upon  the  bosom  of  him  who  had 
BO  magically  driven  away  her  gloom  and  flooded  her  future 
with  an  overpowering  radiance. 

Lena  now  turned  her  face  from  the  window  and  stood 
gazing  upon  the  scene  steadily,  while  Lura  applied  restora- 
tives to  the  fainting  woman.  Then  they  placed  her  upon 
the  sofa,  and  Mr.  Fenn,  turning  toward  the  silent  statue, 
Baid,  mildly  but  firmly, 

"Lena,  a  vessel  will  sail  next  week  from  Liverpool  to 
New  York.  I  wish  you  and  your  mother  here  to  be  in 
readiness  to  sail  in  it.  If  I  can  assist  you  in  any  way, 
Lura  will  let  me  know." 

"Oh  yes.  let  us  go,"  Mrs.  Edwards  sighed,  feebly — "let  us 
go.  I  want  to  see  my  poor  boy,  my  Edgar.  I  thought  he 
was  dead.  How  did  he  get  to  America?" 

In  a  few  words  Lura  told  the  story  of  his  rescue,  his  long 
sickness,  his  insanity,  the  great  kindness  of  Edgarton,  and 
finally  his  slow  but  sure  restoration  to  health  and  reason, 

"He  is  still  at  the  asylum,"  she  continued,  "but  will  be 
ready  on  your  return  to  accompany  you  to  Pleasant  Cot- 
tage, where  I  hope  to  find  you  all  on  my  return  from  my 
European  tour,  happy  and  peaceful." 


ALLS  WELL  THAT  ENDS  WELL.  411 

"  You  are  to  travel,  are  you  ?  And  I  am  to  be  sent  back 
to  dependence  and  drudgery  ?"  sneered  Lena  through  her 
half-closed  teeth. 

Mr.  Fenn  fixed  his  large  dark  eyes  upon  her  strong 
features : 

"  You  will  not  leave  your  mother,  Lena,  while  your  pres- 
ence can  add  to  her  enjoyment.  We  will  return  to-morrow, 
and  I  hope  by  the  next  day  we  can  accompany  you  to  Liv- 
erpool and  make  arrangements  for  your  speedy  departure." 

Then  kissing  Mrs.  Edwards  and  telling  Lura  he  would 
call  for  her  when  the  carriage  was  ready,  he  left  the  room. 

"  Mother,  Flora  and  her  father  are  with  us  at  the  hotel. 
Would  you  like  to  see  her  ?" 

"  Flora  ?    Her  father  ?    What  do  you  mean,  child  ?" 

A  bitter  smile  played  on  the  face  of  Lena,  but  neither 
noticed  it. 

"  Yes,  Flora.    Has  no  one  told  you  of  her  new  fortune  ?" 

"No  one." 

"  I  forgot.  No  one  knew  of  it  but  Edgarton,  and  I  pre- 
sume he  had  reasons  of  his  own  for  not  divulging  his  happy 
secret.  He  wished  to  surprise  his  proud  mother,  which  he 
did  most  effectually  last  evening." 

"  She  has  met  her,  then  ?  Oh,  miserable  woman  that  1 
am !  How  I  long  to  be  away !" 

"  She  will  never  add  to  your  grief  by  any  allusion  to  past 
events.  Believe  it,  she  loves  me  too  well,  and  is  too  good 
and  noble  in  herself.  Shall  I  tell  you  her  story  ?  We  may 
not  have  time  to-morrow.  Besides,  she  is  expected  here, 
and  I  know  will  want  to  see  you." 

She  received  no  answer,  but  in  the  same  sweet  voice  went 
on  to  relate  the  second  strange  story,  which  brought  won« 
der  and  amazement  to  the  hearts  of  her  listeners. 

"And  she  is  to  marry  Edgarton  in  spite  of  all  I  have 
done  ?"  groaned  Mrs.  Edwards. 

Lura  did  nol  appear  to  notice  this  remark,  but  answered, 
mildly, 


412      ALL'S  WELL  THAT  ENDS  WELL. 

"  Yes ;  Edgarton  is  to  accompany  us  in  our  travels,  and 
I  think  will  insist  upon  the  wedding  before  we  start.  Our 
company  will  also  receive  the  addition  of  George  Carring 
ton  and  sisters.  I  anticipate  much  enjoyment,  but  shall 
often  think  of  the  dear  ones  at  Pleasant  Cottage,  and  many 
others  left  behind." 

The  carriage  was  announced,  and  Lura,  kissing  hor 
mother  tenderly,  rose  to  depart.  Lena  again  turned  her 
fuce  to  the  window ;  and  with  a  look  full  of  sorrow,  Lura 
Isft  the  room. 

The  departure  of  Mrs.  Edwards  and  Lena  was  hastened, 
and  in  less  than  a  week  they  were  comfortably  on  board  the 
vossel,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Fenn  having  accompanied  them  to 
their  place  of  departure.  Lena  had  continued,  her  frigidity 
until  she  felt  the  bosom  of  the  great  waters  swelling  and 
rolling  beneath  her,  when  the  thoughts  of  that  terrible 
night  came  dashing  against  the  icy  barriers  of  her  soul,  and 
they  gave  way. 

"  My  oath,  oh,  my  oath !"  she  exclaimed.  "  How  have  I 
kept  it !  The  great  Ruler  of  the  mighty  deep  will  destroy 
me,  and  I  shall  sink — sink  for  ever." 

"  Are  you  afraid  to  cross  the  ocean  ?"  asked  Lura,  com- 
passionately. 

"  No.  Lena  Edwards  was  never  afraid  of  anything  be- 
neath her  feet,  but  was  troubled  and  harassed  by  an  over- 
shadowing power.  No,  I  am  not  afraid,"  she  continued, 
"  of  anything  but  my  own  heart.  You,  however,  will  not 
allow  one  thought  of  me  to  trouble  you  in  your  moments 
of  pleasure.  I  am  not  worth  your  thoughts,  much  less  the 
sacrifice  of  a  single  comfort.  You  have  sailed  triumphantly 
over  all  my  expectations.  Let  that  console  you  for  the  loss 
of  a  sister  who  has  never  been  a  blessing  to  you,  and  take 
the  place  which  such  a  relationship  should  have  occupied. 
Good-bye ;"  and  without  another  word,  she  passed  into  her 
fitate-room  and  locked  the  door. 

la  another  hour  the  proud  steamer  commenced  her  long, 


ALL'S  WELL  THAT  ENDS  WELL.      413 

uncertain  journey  over  the  trackless,  fathomless  deep,  while 
Mr.  Fenn  and  Lura  returned  to  London,  where  all  out- 
wardly was  gayety  and  mirth.  At  least,  there  were  a  few 
happy  hearts. 

Mr,  Dupont  had  at  last  consented  to  a  speedy  marriage 
between  Sir  Charles  Edgarton  and  his  beautiful  daughter, 
and  all  were  in  blissful  expectancy  of  the  splendid  wedding 
which  was  to  take  place  in  two  weeks  at  Edgarton  Hall. 
Lady  Anna,  too,  was  to  accompany  the  bridal  party  to 
Paris,  and  thence  to  Italy,  where  she  was  to  remain  until 
their  return. 

This  was  as  far  as  anticipation  extended,  but  strange 
things  were  wrapped  up  in  the  unknown  years,  to  be  de- 
veloped only  as  unfolded  day  by  day.  Still,  the  reader 
need  not  be  astonished  to  learn  that  in  less  than  two  years 
after,  when  the  minds  of  our  little  party  had  become  sated 
with  sightseeing  and  their  bodies  wearied  with  travel,  there 
was  yet  another  wedding  at  Edgarton  Hall,  when  Lady 
Anna  became  the  untitled  Mrs.  Dupont,  and  accompanied 
her  husband  and  son  to  Montreal  for  an  unlimited  so- 
journ. 

The  dear  old  father  was  still  alive,  and  had  been  well 
cared  for  by  Dora,  who  afterward  became  a  great  favorite 
with  the  proud  English  lady,  and  a  needful  accompaniment, 
as  her  mother  had  been,  for  more  than  one  petted  flower 
laid  upon  her  bosom  to  be  tenderly  nursed.  Her  trust  was 
never  betrayed,  and  Flora's  babes  were  safe  in  her  care,  for 
no  great  temptation  came  to  throw  its  dark  shadows  across 
her  path  and  cause  her  feet  to  stray. 

One  bright  spring  morning,  when  the  little  Arthur  lay 
sleeping  in  his  curtained  crib,  his  happy  mother  brooding 
over  and  kissing  the  little  velvety  cheek  and  pouring  en- 
dearing appellations  into  his  unconscious  ear,  Mrs.  Dupont 
entered  and  brought  a  joyous  surprise.  Their  expected 
guests,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Fenn,  had  arrived  and  brought  with 
them  Mrs.  Lane.  What  a  happy  meeting  was  iii  store 
IM 


414  ALL'S  WELL  THAT  ENDS  WELL, 

for  her!    And  in  a  few  moments  the  two  friends  were 
clasped  in  a  long,  fond  embrace. 

"  How  are  those  dear  eyes  ?"  asked  Flora,  as  soon  as  she 
could  speak. 

The  smile  on  the  happy  face  answered  her  more  em- 
hntically  than  the  simple  words, 

"  The  same  as  when  you  saw  them." 

Mr  Lane  was  to  follow  in  a  few  days,  and  a  happy  party 
filled  the  old  stone  mansion  at  Montreal,  and  the  aged 
grandsire  looked  on  and  smiled.  Late  in  Ihf  evening  Flora 
said  to  Lura, 

"You  have  not  told  me  of  yourself  and  car  friends  at 
Pleasant  Cottage.  It  seems  but  a  year  since  our  return  to 
America,  yet  many  changes  can  be  effected  in  that  time. 
I  hope  no  sad  ones  have  visited  you  ?" 

"  I  am  very  happy,  dear  Flora,  and  my  home  compensates 
me  for  my  early  life  of  discomfort.  But  poor  Lena !  she  is 
miserable,  with  a  fixed  determination  to  remain  so.  We 
strive  to  make  her  happy,  but  her  disappointments  were 
great,  and  she  will  not  look  upon  the  silver  lining  of  the 
cloud.  Our  mother  spent  the  winter  with  us,  and  seems 
quite  happy,  and  we  enjoy  her  presence  with  us  very  much. 
Edgar  lives  at  Pleasant  Cottage  with  Lena,  busily  engaged 
in  his  store,  which  is  all  his  own ;  and  at  our  parting,  a  few 
days  since,  he  whispered  in  my  ear  that  I  must  return  that 
way  if  I  wished  to  see  him  married.  You  cannot  think, 
dear  Flora,  whom  I  am  to  have  for  a  sister.  None  other,  as 
he  informed  me,  than  your  old  pupil  Mattie  Goodale.  They 
have  become  very  much  reduced  in  circumstances,  and  Kate 
is  the  bosom  companion  of  Lena.  I  do  not  think  this  con- 
fidential relation  does  my  unfortunate  sister  any  good,  since 
they  contrive  to  keep  their  discontent  in  full  blaze  by  con- 
tinually fanning  it.  There  have  been  many  strange  changes 
in  my  life,  Flora,  but  none,  I  ween,  are  stranger  than  those 
found  in  our  past  histories.  I  have  just  woven  them  to- 


ALL'S  WELL  THAT  ENDS  WELL.       415 

gether,  your  life  and  mine.  May  I  call  the  story  { Fury  and 
the  Island  Beauty'?" 

"For  shame,  fair  authoress!"  exclaimed  Flora,  with 
merriest  little  rippling  laugh  imaginable.  "How  dare 
you?" 

"The  crooked,  unsightly  branch  of  such  an  illustrious 
tree,"  chimed  in  Mr.  Fenn,  as  the  laugh  became  general. 

"  But,  fair  cousin,"  said  Sir  Charles,  a  moment  after,  "  for 
once  you  must  own  that  Love  has  wrought  a  miracle  of 
change." 

"  Most  noble  Festus !"  exclaimed  Lura,  stopping  in  her 
promenade  up  and  down  the  spacious  parlors  and  standing 
before  her  cousin,  "  you  must  not  give  all  the  glory  to  the 
fickle  god  to  whom  you  owe  so  much;  for  although  my 
heart  desires  to  give  him  due  homage,  I  tell  you  truly  there 
is  nothing  so  damaging  to  the  complexion  as  starvation. 
Oh,  how  I  hated  everything  that  would  not  give  me  food ! 
It  is  the  feeding  and  satisfying  of  these  once  famished 
powers  that  has  taken  the  unsightliness  from  this  plain 
face ;"  then  crossing  the  room  she  took  the  cooing,  laughing 
baby  from  its  mother's  arms,  and  raising  it  high  above  her 
head,  exclaimed, 

"  May  never  a  shadow  of  that  bony  hand  fall  upon  these 
beautiful  features  to  mar  their  sweetness  and  wring  the  sun- 
shine out  of  its  very  soul." 

"  Amen !"  ejaculated  Sir  Charles ;  and  the  tea-bell  chim- 
ing in  its  merry  response,  the  happy  party,  laughing  and 
chatting,  wended  their  way  to  the  long  dining-hall,  where 
we  will  take  leave  of  them,  feeling  sure  that  at  no  distant 
day  we  shall  meet  them  again. 


THE   END. 


